Blessed Memory
by Carneeval
Summary: He has no idea who he is,or what happened to him,the only clue are the mysterious numbers scrawled across his neck. One sided Walter Henry slash. Beatae Memoriae. I give in...I need a Beta.
1. Memories

**That is right people I have returned! And after time of trying one story, scribbling on a piece of paper and trying to write the second story and finding that all I got was boring conversations that would not work at all I came back to this idea that I had a long time ago and of course we revisit a memory centered story… No worries I hope however because it will have no relations to The Meet…Well it will a little, only returning characters but the plot of Meet does not count to this.**

**As I wrote it I found that for a couple of chapters OC's play a rather large part but I'm going to work on that and don't worry there will be no pairings with OC's because…Well I hate that more than anything really.**

**Now it will mostly be one sided Walter/Henry and (I know what I just said it's not a pairing) One sided Male OC/Henry. So I hope you enjoy this aftermath fanfiction!**

**And I know I know, this is not any of the fan fictions promised but when attempting to write those, they came out horrible and trust me, you'd be bored.**

**I must warn, the male and female OC's in it played more part than I planned, but they will eventually disappear from the fiction.**

**~Of blessed memory~  
**

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

As his eyes swept open the two orbs gave way to a bright piercing wave of light that played above him invading tired the tired pair. He held still staring into it, his mind trying to force out an answer of even a question to be asked of his whereabouts and of things that held in the back of his mind, but in the security of his psyche he remained in the blackness of complete void.

He could hear the sound of panicked voices but in his taken back state all he could muster out of it was a murmur as if those who inhabited the room with him were locked behind a glass sheet whilst he was plunged into the depths of deep suffocating water. Whether either of the explanations made sense towards this situation he didn't feel the need to delve into it, he could make out their replies to each other even with this glass sheet and water experience.

He's awake. Doctor please come over here. Are you all right?

Only after the last question and a male voice loudly but controlled requested quiet did he recognize that the responses were directed at him; sound began to matter once again.

"Mr. Townshend can you hear me?" A smooth voice, almost seeming trained to have a calming effect on those whom needed that kind of attention.

His eyes slowly trailed across the door taking in the clean white walls, nurses of both genders in their uniforms with hands up awaiting for something –was all this attention directed at him too?- but slowly as he'd acquired hearing once again, he focused on the man standing above him with a still but altogether worried expression on his face.

He stared back a moment, after a few stutters he found his voice, "Who's…Townshend?"

*~*~*~*~*~*

His name is Henry Townshend. He was born in a town near Silent Hill by the name of Brahms. Silent Hill is currently, well to be put more specifically permanently closed due to occurrences resulting in disappearances of the towns people and those who had entered the town there after, it was deemed unsafe years back.

He works as a photographer at a popular French restaurant in North Ashfieled. More than a week ago he had gone missing, no longer going to work, or really having contact with the rest of the world what so ever, he was seen by a neighbor entering his apartment after work, he'd unlocked the door, entering, and closing the door, just like every day.

Nothing out of the ordinary, but he wasn't seen the next day, nor the next day. The next was the same. Out of request of his next door neighbor and land lord, those who lived across from him tried to see if they could get sight of what had happened through their window, but failed and some eventually gave up, having no idea what the resident of 302 looked like anyways.

His neighbor Eileen reported that there were strange noises occurring within the room he'd failed to exit after a few days, but she was no longer a reliable source due to the incident previous to the authorities discovering him. The day preceding his entry into the hospital the landlord Frank Sunderland finally contacted the system, although he'd said that each time he'd tried to open the door the keys ultimately failed as if something had been blocking it from the other side when the officer sent to South Ashfield Heights attempted it, the door creaked open.

He'd been found on the floor next to a dresser in the living room containing various books and a stereo which was switched on currently spouting the news; he was unconscious looking as if he'd been beaten nearly to death with signs of fatigue.

That's what the doctors told him anyways. But sitting here, on this hospital bed, none of the information he was being handed about himself... He still couldn't find anything as a familiar piece of mind.

Henry. At least he knew what to answer to.

An officer had been with him only a minute ago, attempting to get any if all information out of him over his situation, tried to 'jog his memory', or attempt to distinguish whether he'd truly lost all contact with vital memories, both to him and the law apparently, or was he simply playing a game, draw attention to himself by playing on the pathetic innocent victim game for pity. Yes that was exactly what he needed, extra attention.  
Another theory Mr. Good Cop Bad Cop tried was he was simply afraid of the psychologically disturbed individual who did this to him and was trying to cover as to keep his safety intact.  
Of course, of course he wanted the bastard to stay amidst the shadows.  
So Good Cop Bad Cop simply became Good Cop, trying to treat him like an abused child saying things to him like: 'We're here to help you' and 'We just want to catch the guy who did this' also the repeated 'Are you sure you don't remember anything?'

They wanted him to remember everything? He looked towards the bathroom door, which currently remained slightly open. For the time being he stared at it sorting through thoughts and considerations; finally he sighed pushing himself up onto his feet stepping across the cold linoleum floors crossing his arms to prevent shivers from running across his arms and ultimately causing goosebumps as the room was as freezing as the floor, almost as if bodies were being preserved and turning on the heater would stir fears of the corpses thawing.

Rather morbid comparisons, he considered keeping his thoughts to himself in case such things were said out loud and he was deemed mentally ill.  
After closing the door behind him -noting that the restroom was considerably warmer than where his ironic metaphor corpses were being kept- Henry turned his full attention towards the mirror, leaning forward so that his hands pressed to the counter so to have a closer view on himself.

He reached a hand up to touch his fingertips over the skin of his cheek. This was him. He was rather plain when it came down to analyzing looks, parted brown hair, tan skin, and lips not quite thin but still not exactly deserving description. His eyes seemed to hold the only thing that caught his interest -'Rather strange seeing as this is my body...' He thought. - The two green gems seemed to hold something there, something that told him remembering was still possible, but something else made him look away from his own eyes. The look they held in the background seemed to still be seeing the horrors that caused the cuts and bruises decorating his body as if he was someone's trophy. If whatever prevented his death hadn't happened than he probably would have.  
The proof was on his neck. He slipped his fingers under the large bandage covering half of the left side of neck; carefully he pulled it from the sensitive skin. Underneath the cover was where his main interest lye.

A neatly carved row of numbers were placed across the side of his neck, the cuts deep enough to cause permanent damage to the skin flesh and tissue if any lye in that area, he had no medical knowledge as far as he knew. The numbers were obviously there to stay: 2 1 1 2 1. No. There was a one in the middle; it was a slash. That was what he'd instantaneously informed the police and Doctor when they discussed it. As they spoke his subconscious caught someone saying it out lowed.  
"Twenty one out of twenty one... It's not...A one..."  
He grasped his forehead, how did he know that? Who caused him to know that? Apparently his moment of forced remembrance put a completely different light on the situation, at least he did one thing of use on accident.  
He heard someone knock on the door three times consecutively, "Mr. Townshend?"

He sighed, placing the bandage where it belonged, covering the symbol that would always differentiate him from all the others in the crowed. Still, couldn't they just leave him alone for a little while? He opened the door, meeting eyes with his doctor whom had a thin smile on his face, "Yes?" He asked trying to conceal his annoyance.  
"Just checking up on you?" The doctor responded, Dr. Bennett to be exact. He smiled wider, being sure to show he was well acquainted with bedside manner.  
"Right," Henry responded glancing over Bennett's shoulder, from the angle of the door he could see one cop completely on one side, and the broad shoulder of the other stationed on the opposite side. Henry sighed once again, walking past the doctor into the body freezer cold room and back to his bed ruffling the back of his hair.  
As explained to him before 'He is a victim with his probable murderer still out there, still looking for him, still wanting to finish the deal.'

"You realize they'll be fallowing you... Right?" Dr. Bennett said frowning, referring to Henry's disdain over the polices push to watch over him, basically as bait so to finish their investigation.

"Yeah..." Henry responded with a low tone in his voice, but he looked back up smiling in a rather clever fashion, "I'll throw them off my trail."  
He shook his head finally defeated, his smile a strained one, "Were you this way in your other life?"  
Henry stared back up at Dr. Bennett through his long veil of bangs, shifting positions he answered, "You know I have no idea."

*~*~*~*~*~*

The hospital was kind enough to allow him clothes other than the riddled pair they'd found him bleeding and bruised in. Although they had no understanding to why exactly he wanted them back.  
So, yes he wanted the clothes. Yes, he was sure. Of course he was sure. No, he wasn't going to change his mind.  
So after much debate, the curly haired nurse, reminding him much of a character from a show he'd run across while imprisoned to the hospital's freezer rooms called "I Love Lucy", although he didn't exactly expect the woman eyeing him carefully but worried altogether, to start speaking in a fast paced accent whilst the whole scenario turned into a wacky comedy skit.  
In a low, not fast, voice she gave in, passing the folded clothes over the counter "Alright..." She said, as he zipped them in the backpack he was leaving with a variety of things, including his clothes, she spoke again, "I truly hope your planning on burning those young man,"  
He smiled back at her, laughing a bit, "If anyone should have the pleasure of getting rid of these damn things may'm, I think I'd like it the most."  
She gave him a smug look, "You take care, Henry."  
"I'll be sure to do that," He nodded turning towards the door, than added, "You too."  
She smiled, continuing data entry into the computer.

He was about to reach for the door handle, open it up -thank God he remembered how- and leave finally, "Did you hear about that Eileen girl?"  
"Yes, what a nightmare! She was such a pretty girl under all those bandages and bruises, but there wasn't very much of a chance the poor frail thing was going to make it through that..."  
He began a slow turn from the door, listening intently while his mind searched for why it all seemed so... Familiar?  
"And those numbers on her back, just like-"  
One of the females was stopped from speaking any further. It sounded as if hand had met skin, causing a light slap so to catch the others attention. He craned his head to look where the two were speaking with one another, the two women stood motionless in the hallway on the left, the rest of the hospital, including The Lucy nurse, were preoccupied with the daily going on of a hospital, but those two whom spoke a girl and numbers had their eyes locked to him, jaws dropped a little in a mix of realization and utter shock.

He quickly shifted back to the door, his head naturally going down hand slapped over the bandage; he quickly took paces outside into the air of the city. Before joining the group of passerby's he took in a deep breath, reminding himself of what awaited him for the fallowing days in what Dr. Bennett said could quite possibly be his new life resurrected from the old.

A doctor's nice way of saying that the incident screwed you over so bad that you'll probably never function like you did ever again; your friends and family will now be completely blank faces, have a nice day.

He slowly lowered his hand from the bandage slipping it back to his side; he would never be able to get use to it being there. Even without memories, the numbers felt like they didn't belong.

Henry finally got the breath he needed; he propelled himself forward mentally, walking with the flow of people going the same direction as he towards North Ashfield, whether it be the Shopping District or to turn another course. Walking along the fence of the hospital he felt that he was leaving a safe zone, but he guessed that was how most people felt after they were admitted to one without their previous knowledge.

He glanced at the windows on the first floor of the bright white building realizing he was close to his; he looked up towards the window on the third floor.

Huh…a man stood there, looking completely out of place, at first he tried to place it as being one of the cops meant to watch over him but…No, couldn't be. The piercing green eyes seemed to be locked on him, long scraggly hair fell at the side of his face and from the view Henry had it seemed he was wearing something of a navy blue shade. Without realizing, he halted his steps at the edge of the sidewalk, people simply passing him by. The two locked eyes, the one in his hospital room seemed to have an uncanny ability to hold the half lidded stare that sent cold daggers through his skin, taking in another breath he looked down at the sidewalk.

Whoever they were, they couldn't be dangerous, no one could get past the amount of cops constantly monitoring his room, suspicious of why they were asked to take a short break and probably figuring out pretty soon that Henry was no longer in the hospital.

If they knew him he doubted that they would simply stand there. So he tried to ignore the icy feelings keeping him colder than the room where the man now stood.

____________________________________________________________________________________

**Good to be back and writing, hope you guys will enjoy this, although it centers around memory once again…**


	2. Strangers

He had to admit, he was a bit exasperated. He held up the address and scribble of words to double check if he truly had reached his destination. Dr. Bennett wasn't being simply nice or over stating when he'd said that it was a 'Fancy' French restaurant. It truly, if needed to be said any further, lived up to the definition of the word. He stood at the double wooden doors feeling a bit out of place being in a gray sweater and jeans. Fake gray pillars stood on each side of the polished wood, a sign hanging above the pair in cursive "Sombre Ècarlate"  
He couldn't say he knew French so the name remained a mystery. He double-checked the address, realizing after a bit its location. He was in walking distance of the apartment, the South Ashfield Heights. With an amount of consideration he'd been given the address but was however, recommended to keep his distance for a while, just until he figured everything out for himself. He guessed it was well thought advice, but he wasn't going to stay away forever, no matter the cost really he wanted the one thing in this world that truly belonged to him: His identity.

He took the necessary steps up to the double wooden doors, pushing them open. He was greeted with the cold chill of an air conditioner bursting through the opened door, he questioned temporarily the seemingly similar taste hospitals and restaurants seemed to have over temperatures. The doors clicked close behind him, he stood there for the passing moment, mussing the strands of brunette hair on the back of his head. The blond hostess was obviously preoccupied with the two lunch diners discussing this and that, most likely about reservations, nodding and smiling at one another.  
He entertained himself by looking around; the lights in the restaurant were dim to the point that it was slightly difficult to see. The walls were a dark red, the tablecloths matched this color, each table had a candle inside a mosaic holder causing a bit more light for each, on the far wall was a bar with granite stone top from what he could see from here, behind it stood shelves containing what seemed to be expensive brands of wine; at the moment the bar was not open, the lights off above that area and no employee awaiting for peoples orders. The tables described sat on a lower level, the seating and reservation area stood on a higher level and addressed two different passages for customers to take, a small staircase down, or a railed ramp behind the hostess. He noted that floors rug appeared to be a charcoal shade, before he heard the blond hostess say a trained, "Mercie," in an audible whisper as the couple was greeted by another female employee smiling at them the woman with long black hair led them away with a smile.  
Since there didn't appear to be any other patrons waiting their turn he stepped forward to her.  
She seemed to be scribbling something down in a notebook, but Henry swallowed and said a quiet "Excuse me?" When he'd caught her attention he quickly reached into his pocket pulling out the folded piece of paper written in a doctors messy scrawl the address and his boss's name.  
"I uh, I'm looking for Daniel," He stumbled over his sentence, "My name is-"  
He'd looked up for his introduction, thinking his name might cause a bit of awareness that he wasn't a random person, but when he'd caught her expression, he stopped. She looked beyond stunned, practically petrified if emotional analysis was needed. Her green eyes stood out wide past the bangs on either side of her face, mouth parted, and her whole body frozen.  
But as soon as it started it changed, her facial expression suddenly gave her the look as if she was holding back tears, "Henry..." She said in a broken voice, surprising him.  
She proceeded forward in a still controlled manner. He was a bit frozen by her reaction, he stepped back a small bit, before he could truly take any measure to question if she was okay and why she was experiencing this reaction, but she quickly drew him into a tight but simply friendly but he couldn't return it, he stood rigid in the response his arms out a bit, not attempting to push the tearing up girl away. She finally backed away hands remaining on his shoulders though, a smile adorned her features but her eyes still shined and brows dipped down, "We were so worried about you... Y-You stopped picking up your phone..." She wiped her eyes, "But your okay..."  
"Ah..." He tried to answer in any way, finding no way to which sadly seemed what the woman was waiting for.  
"Henry?" She said, her smile slowly disappearing, "It's me...Shannon?" Awaiting for a moment again still, she watched his perplexed expression, after that wait she dropped her arms to her sides frowning as she stared to the side, "I guess it's true..."  
He blinked, still a bit confused, she stepped around the podium, placing her hands in front of her tapping on its wooden surface, "The hospital called to say you were stopping here and about your... Situation..." She let out a weak laugh that seemed like a small attempt to comfort herself, but it didn't seem to do any good, "But... I guess I was in denial."  
Great. Now he felt bad. "I'm...I'm sorry..." It was pathetic, all he could muster was those simple words that were used to often, stumbling over his words he sounded moreover confused than sincerely apologetic  
She smiled, shaking her head as she lifted the phone at the desk to her ear, "Don't be...It's fine." The person whom she was trying to contact picked up the phone before he could speak any further, "Dan? Ya he's here... Of course, I'll send him right up." She whispered into the phone -as if Henry couldn't hear her in the practically silent restaurant- "Keep your hands to yourself."  
She turned her attention back to Henry, leaning over the podium to point down the ramp, "Go down that hallway and up the stairs at the end, it has a sign on the door that says 'Employees Only' but don't worry..." She smiled bigger, "Because you are."  
Henry looked to the side, and nodded to her, walking down the ramp down the way she pointed to, "Henry," She said, he turned back, her smile had become less depressed than before, "Welcome back."  
"Ah... Thank you..." He said quietly attempting a smile back, but it ended up thin and once again caused him to feel a bit guilty. He pivoted back towards his next destination while she continued her work. This time he didn't glance around, his eyes stayed forward as he continued forward, towards the end of the hall. After a short walk across the restaurant he found the staircase the woman named Shannon was speaking of. It continued up far most likely going to the attic, one light illuminated the door at the very top, showing the gold plaque with cursive writing displaying the words 'Employees Only'. He took the railing, sliding his hand up as each foot clunked against the wooden staircase. He ventured to the top, stopping when he reached the door, he stared at the golden knob for a moment, thinking about what Shannon had said.  
Henry shook his head, curling his fingers to lightly rap on the door, from the other side he heard a male voice answer in a rather bored manner, "Come in."  
He realized he'd been holding his breath a little late; taking the breath he lost back in he extended his arm and opened the door himself.

The door opened to a regular office, he almost jumped when his eyes rested upon the person whom answered him; making him feel even more ridiculous towards the reason he knew that there was someone in the room. They didn't move much for a moment; the man's attention was more drawn towards the document in front of him scanning over it with dark eyes that hid behind black-rimmed glasses. His slick black hair was shined and cut as if to make the 'professional' look his main priority.

He looked up at last, his look starting out as a curious glance but twisted into a smile, that seemed to be purposely done to make whomever it was directed towards absolutely uncomfortable, "Henry..." He spoke, folding his hands on his desk and as if it was all scripted said, "Welcome back."

Henry regarded him past his long bangs, still standing only a little bit past the doorway, "So," Henry said to opposite male, his eyes staring at what didn't seem to be Henry himself, but his soul instead, "You know me too?"

He chuckled, standing from his desk, a pale hand staying on the surface; he used the other to push his glasses back up, "Of course... I was your boss after all."

Henry nodded, but looked back up raising an eyebrow, "Are you still?"

'Dan' as Shannon called him, stared at his desk for a moment no real expression taking premises, but smiled as strangely as possible, "You've been through a lot Henry, I don't think that needs to be discussed."

'Basically I was fired.' Henry thought a bit bitterly, 'But being kidnapped fixed everything'

"Please Henry," He gestured down at the chair at the desk opposite to his own empty one as he leaned against the desk, "Sit down, I do believe there are a few things that actually do need discussing."

Henry nodded, noticing that he had overly formal type of speak, slipping his backpack to the ground he sat on the chair staring up at his -still apparently- boss Daniel. Looking up at the smug smile it seemed he'd offered for the reasoning of having himself be higher above those he 'discussed' things with. He guessed it was a method normally used on newbies in the restaurant team.

"Ya, I was kind of wondering," He said unfolding and folding his hands in his lap as he leaned forward, "If there was anything you could tell me... about myself, who I was I guess."

Daniel paused, considering the statement, "I'm not going to lie to you Henry, you were... Quiet, introversive, you would hand in your photos and than most of the time try and leave. In all truth and honesty Shan and I were, close to you," He gave him a sort of 'look', past his glasses, "And that isn't even saying much. The only people who could really get through to you, you were already friends with them for years. We had to practically force you to stick around, go out for drinks every once and a while." He laughed a little, shaking his head, "Nice as hell though." Looking up as if remembering something he added, "We went to High school together."

This caught Henry off guard slightly.

"My real name is Damien, but after college I had it legally changed to Daniel...It was by shear chance that you ended up applying at my restaurant. But you never really wanted to discuss what occurred in high school..."

He took a moment to consider that, "What happened?"

Daniel smiled wider, "Well now that you don't remember anything I'm the one who doesn't want to talk about it." He stood from where he was leaning with a sound, he gestured for Henry to stand once again, "Come on, there's something you need to see."

Need to?

He did indeed fallow Daniel, or Damien; he wasn't exactly sure who to consider the black haired man as. They exited the office, heading down the stairs and back into the restaurant where more people had been seated, enjoying their lunch and conversations. They only walked a bit before Damien turned direction, knowing exactly where he was going. The atmosphere in this hall seemed to change completely from the restaurants, the lighting ahead showed much darker than where he'd just been, bits of blue light could be seen, almost like a lightly lit aquarium.

Damien stopped before the turn, gesturing his hand for him to continue on.

"This," Daniel spoke, "Was your department."

Blue lights shining up on the framed pictures on the walls only lighted the area, he saw a couple point and smile at one than head down another hallway. "Most of these are yours," Daniel said, walking with his arms intertwined behind his back, surprisingly an admiring tone in his voice as he looked from each picture "Some are paintings by other artists. Each picture has a plaque displaying the name of the artist, although in all truth I could probably name all of yours," He walked to one, tapping on the gold plating next to one, Henry walked up also looking at what he was pointing out, he read the title 'Moonlight Evening', next 'Photo taken by Henry Townshend'

He stepped back a little to get a better look at the photo. It was of a lake while the moon shone both in the sky and the reflective surface of the dark water, wherever he took it wasn't near a city for the thousands of shining of stars in the sky joined the moon while a forest stood calmly in the background.

He smiled pleasantly at the other male this time, before clapping his hands together, "Take a look around," Daniel continued past him, "I'll be back,"

He disappeared off to do whatever managers do. Henry stared down the hallway for a bit, he decided to take Daniel's offer and look around, looking at all of the photos and paintings, admiring the tranquility of each but looking for his own at the same time.

He found one that intrigued him, a painting it's canvass was littered with black feathers of unnatural shaping fluttering through the air, he squinted his eyes, through the groups of feathers, through the openings it seemed the person had designed someone standing past them, back from them.

Perhaps the contributor of the falling feathers? He moved to the next, finding another one of his. The setting was taken through the great branches of trees in a forest... A forest...

He gasped suddenly in surprise, catching someone from the corner of his eye, grabbing his chest over the thin material of his low-cut navy blue shirt. He was ready to apologies for his jumpiness as he turned, but when he had full view of who stood there, everything seemed to stop.

"You..." He said slowly.

A man stood at the entrance of the hallway of pictures, long wavy hair and that blue coat, the one who gazed coldly from the window previously.

If he was a cop, than why would they tail him so unprofessionally?!

"You were at the hospital..." He said gathering his courage to speak even in the presence of those terrifying eyes, gulping he finished, "Weren't you?"

The gaze stayed on him, studying him as if he was some sort of intriguing specimen, but his lips kept in a thin line, "Henry..." He spoke, only saying his name in a low whisper.

This guy... He was hitting a wrong nerve somehow just by standing there, staring. Henry could feel his heart pounding just by the sound of his voice, something in the back of his mind informed him he was without a weapon, "So..." He said trying to stay kept together, "You do know me."

Still staring past the length of dark blond hair, the man didn't respond immediately, he took steps forward, towards Henry, making him back away himself, his heart now beating uncontrollably and breathing hard to do, his back hit the wall as the man continued towards him, catching his cheek in his hand with a swift motion, he felt held there, stunned still, "Yes I know you..." The man spoke in an almost breathless way, his eyes trailed down to the bandage covering his neck "I know you quite well..."

Henry regained himself, finally ripping himself from the opposites reach, his hand naturally slapping over the spot where attention was drawn to, "What the hell are you talking about?! Who are you?!"

He stared back a moment, but without further pause he rushed him, his wrists were roughly grabbed into a tight grasp, he cried out as he was slammed into a wall, his arms pressed against it painfully, the other leaned down examining his now frightened look, green ice eyes studying him without a care, "You don't... Remember anything?" He asked carefully.

He didn't respond, as if somehow someone above realized that something was completely wrong he heard a familiar voice, "Henry?"

The other glared in that direction down the hall, he leaned in closer his breath over Henry's cheek, "I shall return..."

Henry felt a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach as the male gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, when the hands left his wrists he didn't feel the strength to stay up, he slipped to the ground eyes wide, mind blank.

"I heard a crash, is everything O..." Shannon came around the corner sounding care free as she came up, but when she caught sight of him, sitting on the ground she stopped, she hurried to his side, a hand coming to his shoulder, "Henry?!" She said, "What happened?! Are you all right..."

His mouth opened to speak, at first all he could do was gape like an idiot, but he slowly looked to her, "I... I think I met the man who tried to kill me..."


	3. Terror

Authors Note: Haven't done one of these in… 2 Chapters XD Anyways this chapters had a lot of mistakes I just let slip, but I've fixed them! Woot. So updating this will take a while each chapter and… I don't have an end… It's probably most likely going to a multiple ending story.

* * *

He sat once again in Danile's office, his fingers dug deep into the surface of his jeans as he narrowed his eyes focused on the floor as the events that previously occurred ran through his mind, playing like a loop reminding him of why he should be upset.  
"Did you..." Daniel asked, careful to keep his voice steady, "Remember anything?"  
"No..." Henry muttered, but what remained with his anger was fear. Pure fear. Did that count?  
Shannon tried to add in, "Are you su-"  
"Positive." Henry interrupted her. He was sure. That man was... He was way to suspicious, his presence, even the his image in his mind now, sent terrified surges coursing through his heart, even in unknown ways making him feel revolted... He shook his head and stood up, "Maybe I should go back..."  
"Back?" Daniel questioned looking up.  
"To that room...302..." He scratched the back of his neck, staring down, turning a bit to the doorway, "If some kind of traumatic event happened in there, made this all happen, than maybe going back will help."  
Before he could try and move any further he felt a tight hold come around his upper arm, he looked behind him, Daniel had a worried look etched over his normally smirking smug expression, his closed his eyes sighing through his nose, "Henry, you just got out of the hospital... Whatever happened there happened only a few days ago and you just want to go back?"  
Henry smiled back weakly, "That was the plan..."  
Shannon stepped forward a bit joining the group, "Look, he's right, Daniel and I share a house, its kind of big, why don't you stay away from there a bit, a day or two to clear your head, really think about this, than we'll get off your back about it...Okay?"  
The both of them looked absolutely hopeful over the suggestion, the idea playing over extremely well in their heads. The way they looked at him with Daniel's deep colored eyes, hard but playful, and Shannon's robins egg blue, sweet and light, almost motherly, he also saw the other look, they saw him as someone they'd known, been close to for a long while, but through his eyes, dull brown, he didn't recognize them. They seemed like complete strangers, people he'd just met an hour. After a bit he decided, "Okay... Ya, Okay..."  
The answer seemed to please them greatly, "Hey," Daniel said with a shrug, "You might change your mind and never want your old memories back... Just start new ones."  
In a way Henry wanted to answer 'maybe' but... Somehow he doubted it. "I have one condition however," He said lifting his hand.  
"Huh?" Daniel and Shannon questioned in unison.  
"I'd like to call you Damien, your real name."  
Damien was instantaneously thrown by the request while Shannon's jaw dropped, "...Your name is _Damien_?"

Although the restaurant was in North Ashfield the two lived in a well kept neighborhood outside the city of South Ashfield, unlike his apartment address which lye within the South Ashfield. The house was indeed large on a rising hill, two stories high and a pure white color, the bushes were cut professionally in a round shape in front of the ebony sealed windows, matching the green lawn. The style was well... Modern. "Beautiful house," He commented as the drove onto the driveway, parking there. Shannon laughed as she removed the key from the slot, "You've been here before," Her voice lowering near the end.  
"Oh..." He responded, he had a bad feeling living there was going to cause slight issues. He'd already made Shannon depressed more than once, and attacked his probable almost serial killer to their restaurant... Living here was it...

"Thank you Frank," He was ready to say a goodbye but Frank stopped him before he could proceed.  
"Henry..." He said sounding a bit unsure, "I'm sorry... About Eileen,"  
He stayed silent a moment staring off but finally took a breath and said his last part of the conversation, "I don't know who Eileen is."  
*~*~*~**~*~*~**~*~*~**~*~*~**~*~*~**~*~*~**~*~*~**~*~*~**~*~*~**~*~*~**~*~*~**~*~*~*

He was running at the quickest pace he could manage. But it was impossible... No matter how fast he ran, it was never going to be good enough, the aching in his throat just proved how weak he was, how much trying to get away proved impossible. He still couldn't stop, the fear and need to get away kept pushing him forward, but the fog continued on and on in this eternal abyss. He didn't have any idea where he was in the first place, the dewy grass slipped under his bare feet and morning light should have all be such a comforting thing if done in terms of a regular beginning, but not so for Henry. He glanced over his shoulder as he inhaled a painful choking air, the calm shadow kept stalking through the light clouds hanging down. He shouldn't have looked back, or even began panicking more in the first place. He would never let him be, he would never leave, just keep fallowing. Just keep watching.  
When he turned his head back he found it cause his run to send him into an odd position and his slipping feat didn't agree with the new events, he gasped faulting in his steps sending Henry crashing into the damp ground before him. The crash knocked every ounce of air from him, so he lye there.  
Useless. Helpless.  
No. He allotted himself no more time to catch his breath, pulling up his arms from his sides, pushing off the slick grass. With every once of strength he forced himself forward, an adrenalin boost sending his heart pounding, all focused on the hope of escape.  
Hope is only a cover feeling.  
Forceful hands wrapped around his forearms dragging him away from the destination he had no idea how to reach. Fear replaced the emotion that kept him driven on, clenching his teeth he only let out a pitiful cry when he was jerked towards the other. Henry felt himself slammed firmly into his terrorizers chest their arms wrapping around his chest to prevent any successful struggle.  
Breathing only through his teeth he closed his eyes to try and block out the truth of what was happening, but a voice only a little ways away from his ear did what washed away all his pretend little fantasies of freedom.  
He spoke, "Stop running Henry... Stop trying to get away from Mother and I, you cannot forget it is always with you..." The horrible smile, he couldn't see it. Didn't want to. But he felt it... Nearing closer to him to speak directly into Henrys ear as if to get the perfect of him trying to shrink away and find anywhere, anywhere but here, but now, the male pressed his lips to the victims hearing source, "Just like the scars on your neck..."  
Fingers probed underneath the bandages slipping them away from their rightful place. The only cover and mask so he did not have to look upon them and be constantly reminded. But the bandages proved it was there, proof he had something to hide.  
"You'll never be able to hide... They're always with you..." The pads of skin drug against the scars, "And with them is me."

Henry jumped up in bed gasping for air, sweat fell down every inch of skin that could drench a cold sweat. While his hands dug carelessly into the edges of the blanket he looked around the room panting for an amount of air to replace the amount stolen by the horror of the dream.  
No wait: Nightmare he concluded with a frown.  
He could feel his nails digging even through the thick plush of the blanket, dropping it he sighed in relief. A nightmare was just a nightmare, yes it caused you to desperately be in need of a long shower but it was simply a depiction of images your subconscious letting stress be released from a troubled mind.  
A damn if was he troubled. He stared at the ceiling for a while he arm lying on his damp forehead. Finally he closed and reopened his eyes struggling to will himself from the comfort of his bed.  
Not only was a shower due but also the bandages needed to be changed over to a fresh pair, for more reasons than necessary to mention. Entering the rest room accompanying the room being borrowed from Damien and Shannon he shut the door behind him. It reminded him to much of the hospital, when he got the first good look at the slice marks etched ever so carefully with a blade.  
Was it fun for them? A curve there a slice here creating their desired mark on once unmarked skin, deep to cause the damage that would assure he couldn't just clean it with medical supplies away. Just wish for its disappearance.  
Again with the cynical thinking. He shook his head, no use in becoming depress no reason in it either. He pulled the hospital bandages from the medicine cabinet taking one and setting it on the counter. Henry finally led his eyes up to his own reflection and his eyes immediately caught it, the bandage was removed slightly, hanging off his skin at the edge. It couldn't be... The dream, he had just reacted to the dream badly and while he slept he'd taken it off partly himself. After he was content with the answer he pealed it the rest of the way off tossing it in the trash and continuing to the next bandage taking the plastic and tossing it in to join the old one. He held it out to get a mirrors perspective so he could cover the cuts completely. He wavered. New marks had joined them, thick marks of round purple bruises stained there; about three or four. Henry strained his neck lifting his hand he pressed his own fingers to the barley black marks. Definitely shaped almost the same... But larger.  
He gave himself a silent assurance that everything was going to be okay.

Already he could hear noises in the kitchen when he proceeded down the stairs, the room was just around the bend so he got a direct view of the two already starting their mornings.  
Damien stood with his back to him working on something at the stove. His wear at home was shockingly darker than at the restaurant unlike Shannon and him whose were complete white. Professional at work fun at home was his motto for the day before, but Shannon burst his bubble by mentioning that he'd just made that up at that moment.  
When Shannon took notice of him she looked from her book to smile with a brightness to match the sun, she seemed to have an absolute maternal air about her making kindness more apparent than most could show, "Good Morning Henry,"  
"Bonjour," Damien smiled full toothed back at him but looked back to his food preparations.  
"Bonjour?" Henry repeated questioning as he sat at the end chair of the table, it obviously derived from a different language and even upon hearing it he mispronounced it a bit making himself feel not exactly the most intelligent.

Shannon giggled slightly not even rising her eyes from the piece of literature, "It means 'Good Morning' in French, he trying to use his clever methods of subliminal messaging to teach you French,"  
He inhaled a deep sigh, pretending he'd been caught, "Ah ah, C'est la vie, such is life." He motioned his hand in the air to emphasize his statement.  
Shannon shut the story leaning towards Henry lowering her voice, "Trust me he's using short statements now but wait till he starts using it on a regular basis like before,"  
Before? Oh, before the incident.  
"On ne connait que les choses qu'on apprivoise," Damien commented still working on his cooking.  
"Ferme la," Shannon retorted quirking an eyebrow.  
"What?" Henry questioned baffled.  
"Basically he just referred to you as a dog, sweets," She said nodding her head with a half smile.  
"That's nice..." Henry responded sarcastically.  
Damien merely laughed bringing two plates to the table holding traditional breakfast items, bacon, sunny side up over easy eggs, and hash browns obviously hand made.  
"Henry le chiot," Damien said snickering  
hopping onto the counter instead of sitting at the table, "Oui Oui," He said tilting his head from side to side acting as if he'd considered it. Henry gave him a slight glare understanding only that Damien was teasing him further with phrases he could not understand.  
When Shannon and him went to eating Damien's grin melted away going into a sentimental smile "So what's your plan for the day?" He asked, directed towards Henry.  
"Hm? What do you mean?"  
Damien removed the glasses from the bridge of his nose, slipping them from thin strands of black hair, he used the outside of his dark shirt to clean the glasses, "Shannon and I have to go to work today so were going to have to leave you, unless," He added, "You want to tag along with us."  
Something about that statement just completely informed him that Damien was once again referring to him as a puppy. A defenseless weak being the only chance of survival being following others for protection and support. To add on, his little meeting with the man in the blue coat didn't make the restaurant look at all look appeasing, "I guess... I might have a look around the city..." He shrugged, sliding the fork across the table in thought.  
Shannon frowned at his suggestion momentarily refraining from eating her food also, "You sure?" She asked worry thick in her voice, "I mean after the other day..."  
"Shan," Damien narrowed his eyes in a 'really' fashion, he moved off of the counter stepping across the room, the two only watched him for the first part, but when he moved to the curtain in the living room next to the couch he motioned his hand for them to join him. Curiously, they joined him across the living room looking out the glass of the slightly fogged window of the morning. Across the street a car simply sat, off with a man in the drivers seat, his focus temporarily focused on a newspaper, "This guy has been out there since six A.M., and if my guess is right, which Shan you know from experience it normally is, than that guy is a cop, so don't worry, Henry's going to be fine."  
Shannon stared to the ground but after a bit of thinking agreed with Damien that all would be well, they began making jokes over the situation with one another, but took no notice in Henry. His nails made indentions in his skin as he stared at the man across the street, clenching his fists.  
The rest of the morning continued as any normal one would for three residents living in one household, that is, as far as Henry could tell. After Shannon and Damien had readied themselves for work Shannon offered him a ride to the city, but he turned down her offer with a slight smile, "I think I'll walk, ya know, clear my head a little with fresh air."  
Fresh air that would join more emptiness, but this state of mind must be bliss for his original self.  
She nodded to him once again considering something in her mind that would go unsaid, "Alright, have a good day," She gave him a serious look, once again belaying her motherly air, "Stay safe."  
"Use that cell phone if you need anything!" Damien yelled to him as the car pulled out of the lot, he'd leaned out the window completely proving he wasn't wearing a seat belt. From inside the car Shannon yelled at him to get back in the car 'That instant', he threw one last grin in Henry's direction before doing as Shannon instructed.  
He watched as the car drove down the street and even waited until it disappeared around a bend towards the restaurant. He leaned over, looking down the opposite direction; the same brown car had relocated only a small drive away.  
Real professional.  
Shaking his head he stepped back up the stairs shutting the door behind him. He reached into his pajama pocket -he hadn't bothered to change just yet- pulling out the small portable phone and set himself up on the couch, he played out instructions Shannon gave him for using the confound piece of machinery. Flipping it open the first picture being her background for the phone revealed itself. It was the three of them all gathered in Damien's office holding a piece of paper, the picture had obviously been caught off guard, they all stared at the camera, confused expressions lining all their faces, papers in their hands that he had no idea what they'd gone to. Damien sat at his desk, it actually had things scattered across it making a mess of the polished wood. Shannon sat near the corner on the desk on the only portion that didn't contain papers, instead of her uniform -black vest, white undershirt with black tie and skirt- she wore a white tank top and red shorts, sandals on the floor so she could sit cross-legged. He was near by, sitting on the floor -In that damn button up shirt!- against the wall, hunched over slightly.  
Shannon had said this was a sentimental memory, making it the perfect background. After looking over once more he accessed the photos taken by the phone, most of them were of Damien and Shannon, he was in few and in all he was normally looking towards someone else listening to what they were saying, or just staring off at nothing in particular.  
Never really smiling, laughing, or really showing any emotions to contribute to the moods of all the others photographed.  
He eventually ran across one where he was smiling, but he deeply wished he hadn't after he'd found it. Covering his mouth he stared... He looked so... So fucking fake... Clicking it closed in his hands he let in a deep sigh, it didn't matter anymore, all they were were still frames taken by a phone, he didn't need to worry. There was no reason. He just worried about readying himself for his day ahead.

The North Ashfield shopping district was a little more than a walk away from the house but when he entered the city he was feeling regret for not taking an umbrella with him like the other passerby's. Above the city's heads the once milk colored clouds had gathered with one another into molten colored ash rising ahead informing that either it would rain down on the citizens or wait until or more reasonable hour.  
There was no real personifying clouds and rain however. After considering his thoughts over the matter he found that the sound of rain was a more pleasing than threatening thing, so if it did occur whilst he took his walk than it wasn't such a terrible thing. He stopped at a small shop almost concealed by the vast amount of buildings reaching the dark clouds. Small trinkets and ornaments meant to imitate animals sat on a velvet red cloth as display; their glass bodies were stained to give them an intricate design. He actually felt himself snicker a little in the light of the amusing nick knacks...  
A radio sitting on a near by booth finished the last portion of the song it was playing and the deep voice of an announcer took over, "The latest victim in the recent string of attacks has been released from the hospital as of yesterday. There are no leads except for the suspected copycat of Walter Sullivan. Names will not be given but as of recent information handed by the Police the victim is reported to have had the numbers two one one two one carved into an unnamed portion of their body, sources say it is to protect the identity of the victim. Latest discoveries in the case proves that the numbers do not add up to be separate but in fact the middle has been identified as a slash, making the numbers show has twenty one out of twenty one, this could take a whole new spin on the investigation..."

Henry stopped really paying attention to it after it, basically they didn't even have a lead and they were trying to use that bit of information to calm worried citizens before they packed their bags and completely left Ashfield never looking back. He would remind himself call the station to give them what he knew...  
He hadn't noticed the car park behind where he was standing, this wasn't an at all rare thing so he hadn't really taken any notice to it until an all to understanding thing was said, "Townshend,"  
He knew it... Even as he wanted to contact them he had no interest in this, with a sigh he began down the sidewalk, the clunk of heavy boots regrettably fallowed, "I thought I told your chief or whatever, I didn't want to be trailed..."  
The other sped up to catch him, "I understand that, but you have to understand-"  
"Look I get it," He said turning towards the officer now able to see the other brunettes looks, "Everyone has made me fully aware of the whole situation, I was attacked, perhaps held hostage, the cuts are a nice little reminder... But I can't deal with... This..." He attempted to be a small bit more sympathetic, not lose any patience over such simplicity, perhaps they just wanted to catch the killer and perhaps his safety might be an issue to them, but he couldn't be fallowed and expected to shut himself up in the house all day -Was the house any safer anyways?-.

He turned again, heightening his voice to gauge the importance of what he was about to say, "And anyways I think I've met the killer..." If it sounded strange to him then how strange did it sound to the cop?  
"What?!" He questioned, sounding stricken by the statement.  
Henry began to stride through the crowed expecting the cop to follow, when the sound of his steps signaled he had, Henry continued, "When I was at the restaurant where I worked I ended up alone for a brief moment. However," The quickening pace of the other showed his worries or pure interest towards 'However', "Someone walked in the room, I had seen him at the hospital so I thought maybe he was one of you guys but... To tell you the truth the guy scared the hell out of me. Anyways, he took too much interest in the scars he... knew they were there..."  
He finally realized he'd sort of drifted into a daze and with him went the topic, "I expect you want his description?"  
Looking over the officer had a frown on his face, actually belaying perhaps sympathy, "Yes... That would really help out..."  
"I couldn't get a good look at him... It was dark, from what I could see he had shoulder length dark blonde hair and... a long blue coat..." He turned again seeing a shocked expression on the officers face "Sound like any of your colleagues?"  
"No... That'll do... Thank you..."  
When he'd discontinued following he said on last thing, "Townshend... Be careful..."  
Henry kept walking.

"Ah dammit let's go..."  
An elderly rushed off the sidewalk the man holding a briefcase over his wife as the drizzle slowly became a light rain. He watched as the man didn't even try to shield himself as he opened the car door to let her in the car, she smiled at him "What would I do without you?"  
-A brunette girl smiling only halfway, " What would I do without you?"-  
He gasped in surprise, could that have been...  
"Son!" The man addressed him as most do a younger audience, he looked up the male gave him a worried expression, "You better get out of this rain, you'll catch your death out here."  
He considered the wise advice and shouted an agreement over the lowed downpour he hadn't realized had increased until now each waved a goodbye of temporary meetings and went separate ways, but he swore he heard the woman comment on his bandage.  
Trying to ignore this he looked for the best place to stop, he spotted a small welcoming looking cafe on his side of the road. That would do; but even so he considered what the man had said: He'd catch his death out here.  
Couldn't be truer if he kept throwing himself out here like bait.  
The cafe was warm enough to give him a moment of no thought, looking around he could see similar patrons soaked by the rain outside. He glanced a bit, noticing a table away from the small groups next to the window, this was his choice place, before sitting he checked his wallet, last he checked he had...  
Making a small noise of recognition he saw the amount had gone from one twenty to three and one tucked in piece of printer paper. Seating himself he opened it to see the swirl and neat cursive of none other than Damien...  
_Hey there Hen, __  
__Knew you'd probably stop by somewhere on your way out, so I gave you the pay check you missed out on before disappearing off the face of the earth. Ya see, that was the weirdest thing about that; most people get their paychecks before going off and leaving! Shan says I'm a weirdo, I say it's common sense. Anyways, this letter has become a pure ramble and has gone on way to long. Have a great day! Oh, by the way, might I suggest sleeping medication for a little while? You were tossing and turning an awful lot in your sleep last night. __  
__Hugs and kisses __  
__-Damien _

He'd technically only known Damien for a limited amount of days and this seemed very... Him... Of course Damien would not only go through his stuff but leave an extremely... Strange note, it was nice, but strange nonetheless. It still made him smile.  
"Hey there,"  
He looked up seeing a waitress seeming probably in her thirties waiting with a grin, "Oh..." He said swiftly putting the paper away, "I'm sorry, I was distracted..."  
"Naw, don't worry about it," She said rising her nail polished hand and dropping it, she lifted a notepad and pen to easily write on it, "Places like this are great to get yourself thinking, anyways what'll it be?"  
He hadn't even considered an order much less know anything to name, "I um..." He tried thinking over anything.  
She still smiled understanding, "Look, how about I surprise you?"  
That seemed to be his best option at the moment, but a voice chimed in, "How abou' one of tho' caramel thin's?"  
He turned as the waitress looked up, a girl looking of the fourteen area sat atop a table behind him swinging her legs while her hands held her up, her first sentence revealed a strong accent.  
"Hydie, what are you doing wandering around in this weather?"  
"I have a' umbrella..." She said holding up a black and light blue umbrella with her sneaker trying to balance it.  
"And do you think a grown man wants-"  
"No," He interrupted, "That'll be fine, I'm up to new things,"  
Really it was no point of trying anything new, it was the fact that it wasn't really, it was something created in his range of memory, she said an 'Alright then,' and walked towards the kitchen, leaving him with the blonde girl Hydie.  
"Welp," She said hopping off the table, "I shoul' be on my way befo' Trace has a' hear' attack," She said walking to the door, making the umbrella go out full, "Ha' a good day sir..." A grin curved on her lips, "Or shoul' I say twenty one?"

The kid had giggled when she left... Christ if little teenagers could figure this out whom else would? He sighed, he'd finished the drink and had simply begun twirling the spoon through the empty cup watching it, finally he left his spot leaving his amount to pay and a generous tip for the friendly employee, and she did her job well.  
Listening to the clatter of his own shoes against pavement, he stepped back into a light drizzle of water. Looking left and right he still saw emptying streets, what a sight the city was in its darkened. He stood still watching the sky for a moment, but even as he became use to this cold everything about the city seemed to change within seconds of him being there. He blinked in question; eyes leaving the sky, to his surprise someone had made the other side of the street inhabited across from him.  
A woman stood there, dark skin, dark hair tied in a bun with clothing matching as a showy outfit, but in this sort of weather? It made no sense... He stared back for a bit, but looked behind him, she seemed to be smiling in his direction. When he gave her his attention back she grinned fully, showing white teeth the moving of her shoulders symbolizing giggling, she brought a hand up waving to him after her small laughing moment. He pointed to himself inquiring from this distance if she was gesturing to him, the woman shook her head only a bit almost as if to say, 'Of course you.'  
Did she know him? She turned a bit, bringing her hand up again, this instance however, she signaled for him to fallow her. He moved to step off the sidewalk so to move to her side of the street so this empty worded conversation could actually continue, but the moment he tried she -even in her thin heeled red shoes- broke out in a run. His eyes widened in surprise, he, without thinking, copied this action rushing down his side of the sidewalk after her unconscious trying to call her attention to stop this strange action by yelling a simple, "Hey!"  
She didn't stop; the smile became a grin, as if grade school students had issued a sudden game of Hide-and-Seek.  
She was bound to slip on the concrete below her barley supportive shoes, but the rain didn't seem to effect her even in the slightest, even as he tripped skidding his palms again the pavement with his chest, stomach, thighs, being the last to slam into the hard surface. It reminded him sickly of the dream, being swept up by an unmistakable figure after losing grip with the ground and gravity taking its cruel turn on him. He lifted himself up, cloths soaked down by this point in time, the long brown coat no longer protecting him from the rain now that he and the wet ground had a nice meeting with one another. Gritting his teeth he tried to lift himself, the woman came into his site past the now stringy brown bangs. She stood on a darkened staircase a sign above it, waiting for him to arise, and even to his dismay, he gathered his strength and did so. When she witnessed this, she turned once again walking down the stairs. He held his chest and stomach and for reasons he didn't understand -Curiosity? Memories? Stupidity?- Henry took the railing and fallowed into the blackness below...

In the strangest ways, it seemed to swallow, take over his whole body and draw him in as if imitating suffocating black ribbons tightly winding the silky lies around his body, sending ice cold shivers to his core. These were all metaphors he'd briefly created however.  
Damn that woman... He finally considered he'd followed an insane person, but mental or not, this was a subway, and he questioned the reasons that a space of transportation would shut off all lights without warning of it being closed. He still held the railing, trying to keep a sense of balance in this drenched form, from the jacket to his dress shoes. After minutes of slow steps he felt only air under his heels, carefully, he held the last of the rail and led himself to the ground. Damming the woman in his mind again he tried to look up, but the light source in this place was so limited he couldn't even see any part of himself move. He admitted inwardly, he was terrified, there was no denying it, but he wasn't going to let it consume.  
There was no turning back now.  
Grunting in annoyance, he took the wall as support, the texture didn't seem normal, almost rough, rugged. That was strange... He couldn't even stop himself from blinking consecutively, green eyes trying to take any advantage to try and adjust to the pitch-blackness. Relief washed over him when his hands fell in slightly, guidance leading him to the salvation of a literal light at the end of the tunnel. A loan door stood in a thin hallway, far enough to only protect the soul area it stood in from the invading dark in the rest of the place. He was able to let go of the wall with the new source, he had no idea where it led, but it was better than tripping around in the dark. Even so, he narrowed his eyes as he ventured towards the door, it was designed regular, perhaps like a fire exit, but its metal surface seemed to take an entire coating of rust with white paint doing its best to keep some normality on it. He looked back with a swift movement, but no reasoning came to turn back. When he'd approached it, he stood there for a bit... A headache had arisen from the back of his head, washing over like water throughout his inner skull... Perhaps he was over thinking... Reaching out his hand, Henry pushed it open and walked through to the other side, taking cautious steps. Looking upwards, shock and awe took precedence for that bit of time, keep him stunned, a slam behind him brought all consciousness back. He blinked, "No... No..." The wall where a door stood not only two seconds had become cemented in a rectangle position on the wall, he repeated the denial word a few more time hands slipping against cold surface as he tried to force something to happen. Nothing did.  
He truly didn't expect it.  
Even so, his heart had become a lead weight burdening his chest, he slipped to the ground against the wall staring up, breathing in short hyperventilation. "This isn't happening... This is not..."  
His surroundings tried to mimic a subway and failed to accommodate the normality needed for proper housing other than in October. Walls took on a discoloration of blacks, reds, and orange speckled against the walls creating a sick art project against the wall he distantly doubted was paint. Leading above it the place seemed to have no ceiling, merely blackness reached up, strange noises echoing from it while wires hung down carelessly. His hands hit cold tile as they dropped, to finish this area, the ground below him took on the looks of old bathroom tile, tiny and cracked, colors of the wall ever so often splattered in different places.  
Henry, panicking in slow increments, looked back and forth trying to close his eyes and pass it off as a dream, he'd never left the house, he'd fallen asleep on the couch, still safe... A clattering sound ripped that moment of fake security away. He sat up, waiting for the horror nearing. All that showed as new to the surrounding was a piece of metal across from him on the floor. Lifting himself up, with little bits of trouble of slipping, he started towards it. Looking up into the darkness above he searched for any signs of how it ended up there, but nothing showed. So his attention returned to the item.  
A gun... He couldn't name anything off the bat, but it most obviously was a gun, scooping the weapon into his hand he held it in both hands, lifting it, for a second he aimed it. Why did he feel... Natural with it... Taking a deep sigh, he decided either to sit here trying to wake himself from an irreversible nightmare or try and search a way out. If it wasn't loaded at least he had pistol whipping. Starting down the hallway he kept his heart rate at a controlled state, trying to keep from having a heart attack over walking towards the darkness of the next area...  
Once again. Consumption. Closing his eyes he didn't try to define it, just let it take him, holding his only form of defense up. It ended; he opened them again; lowering it Henry glanced around. Grimacing, he found this area stranger than the last. Fencing with blue tarp covered the staircases, even the walls didn't try to take on speckled appearances, only rusted brown...  
He looked past it, leaning out, he tried and see an exit, but only saw large pieces of metal blocking the next hallway. Something else caught his attention, long strands that seemed to have been lying on the floor for long periods of time, perhaps even trampled. It was faded but kept some black gloss to it, like strands of wire or... Hair? Feeling sick in his stomach rise more, he fallowed the trail, it kept going till he reached the turnstile, he shook his head, "Oh god..." He whispered. It was resting over the metal bars, red liquid dripping down from the sliding strands. In the middle of them on the ground lye a card, yellow and small. He couldn't stop gulping down bile as he thought it over, the blood colored substance dropped in a complete circle around it, daring him to reach. It could be a clue... Taking a deep breath he inched towards it, whipping out his hand he slid it quickly from the spot it took stumbling back with it, gritting his teeth trying to only focus on the paper to ignore what he'd done to get it.  
It was a ticket, for the machines, but even past the typed writing on the front he could see scribbling with pen through it on the back. Flipping it over he examined the note.  
Run Run Run  
You tried to save her  
But no one can escape  
Sin  
But innocence is such a burden  
Isn't it Henry?  
He shook his head in disbelief, what sick bastard wrote this? His heart thrummed in quick pounding, whoever wrote this knew of him, knew he'd take it, and certainly wanted him to. Still, he turned to the machines behind him, maybe... He inserted it in slot, the opening excepting it... It would work...  
But it rejected it, spitting the paper back out leaving enough of it in to hold it but for the person attempting to get through to take it, "Great..." He said in one stressed breath.  
"You know that wouldn't work..."  
His eyes jolted wide at the sounded of that voice. His hands flew up with the gun pointed, lips pursing in sudden flooding in fear. The male stood against the metal bar, leaning casually looking... Bored... Tired almost. He lifted himself from it walking across the room, Henry kept the gun up backing away, the blond strode to the turnstile holding hair, he took the hair into his hand and ignoring the substance taking place on his skin, he began twirling it, like he had nothing better to do, "You were always so determined to be free... and... You played right into my hands but..." He trailed off after that.  
"I know who you are..." Henry said, trying to retract out of this shaking voice, hands following suit.  
"Do you?" He asked quietly, only looking up slightly past the trail of scraggly hair one eye showing as he continued playing with the strands hanging down.  
"Your... Your the one who tried to kill me..." He said nodding, mostly to himself, "Your the reason I have these marks on my neck... Why I can't remember anything..."  
This statement set the man off, his eyes became sharp narrowing, gaping; he'd heard a statement to his disbelief he squeezed the hair crooking it, letting liquid spill down his hands, not reacting to it, "I had... Nothing to do with your memory... You wanted to forget Mother... You wanted to forget me..." He whipped his head towards Henry, offense reading his expression, but he calmed turning back to the hair tugging it roughly, and shrugged, "So..." He let the hair drop his hand dropping to his side, "You forgot..." To Henry's revulsion his lips curved into a smile, sick and twisted with every sense of the words, "And you ran... But you can't run, you can't hide, you belong to her..." He pointed towards Henry, "The proof is on your neck..."  
"Get away from me..." He whispered, holding out the gun further as he stepped away.  
"I remember how you looked when they died..." He continued towards Henry, smiling at a sentimental thought.  
"Stay away..." He repeated, stronger.  
He shook his head, "How sad you looked, so stressed. When Andrew died you were simply hoping it would all end."  
"Stay the hell away from me..." His fingers pressed further on the trigger. I can't kill someone...  
"But it didn't..."  
Henry's back hit a wall, man came further, the gun pressuring to his chest, "Did it?"  
He pulled the trigger, shutting his eyes as he let a stream of bullets fly from the barrel of the gun, listening to every sickening noise it emitted.  
Henry breathed out opening his eyes; the man lay on the ground, blood covering underneath him. He cried out, pushing off the wall rushing down the hall, when he turned he saw an exit, a staircase. He slipped again still soaked from the rain, knee smashed into the concrete, but he forced himself up, even as the gun fell to the floor, he just flung up the stairs. Unmistakable strong hands grasped his arm with bruising strength; he was forced forward against the wall, his arm twisted against his back. The man leaned against him, seeming to snicker at the state of his clothing, he pressed his lips against Henry's ear in a rasped whisper; "Don't you want to know my name? I know you do..." He leaned in closer, -body, mouth- "It's Walter... Walter Sullivan..."  
The hands let go, He rushed up the stairs, gasping someone walked past him; he looked around... The sun had returned he was outside. Looking down people stepped down the staircase into the subways. Lights on... No way he looked up; he actually smiled in disbelief. South Ashfield Heights.


	4. Domineering

**This chapter is 17 pages long.**

Be happy because I am! Kidding if your displeased than ya, okay so Happy Holidays I Abby give you the gift of an extremely long chapter, this is also dedicated to Hilarious-Mayhem who needed a new chapter of something ^^ I hope you feel better.

**Now, I was in a car accident the other day that only hit my door so I'm a little freaked out so be nice little reviewers' kay?**

**Also fanfiction has been really weird and messing with my dividers on the chapters so if you notice a jump between scenes its because of that. This chapter had a lot more Walter/Henry than it was meant to but I put in more for you guys!**

* * *

He was still in a panic when his phone began ringing, he pulled it from his pocket checking the name, finding his paranoia had become an all new high, Shannon it said thankfully. "Hello..." He said breathlessly.  
"Hey, Henry it's Shannon," Her voice was risen over loud crowds she seemed to be standing in, "I'm in North Ashfield right and I thought I'd visit you on my break but..." The sound of keys and the closing of a door "I can't find you, did you go home?"  
He smiled again against his will... "Um... No, I'm actually in South Ashfield..."

They drove down the road, a perplexed expression played on Shannon's face, "Look, I'm no expert on subways or anything, but... I really don't think that the North Ashfield subway goes all way to South Ashfield by foot..."  
Henry stared out the window a small smile on his face as he watched the colors pass by, "I told you, don't worry about it," He murmured to her.  
Suddenly, the car jerked to the side, completely abandoning the lane it had occupied earlier he held the seat belt as a first reaction to the sound of screeching tires, the car swerved into a parking spot by the sidewalk, not exactly perfectly done, but in place, he looked to Shannon for answers over this, her hands were tightly latched on the wheel, eyebrows creased; enraged obviously. She whipped her head towards him, her voice raising an octave below a yell, "I'm sick and tired of everyone telling me not to worry! Always telling me, 'Don't worry he'll be fine' its been like that the past few days! I have the right to worry!" She slammed her hands down on the wheel, making Henry jump at this amount of anger she was displaying, she changed once again lowering her head down her light hair covering her face, cracks in her words, "You were one of my best friends but... Always so distant, I could never get close to you... When you'd disappeared and they found you, hurt... It..."  
She didn't want to continue, and he was in no way going to make her, he'd been frowning, staring off in another direction. After silence, he put his hand on her back, "Okay Shannon, I won't tell you to worry anymore..."  
She nodded against the wheel, finally getting an answer she wanted.  
After regaining herself she sat up and apologized over her outburst, of course he accepted it. The ride home however was as awkward as anything really could be, neither of them attempted to initiate conversation until they arrived at the house, when he'd gotten out of the car, smiling up at him weakly, "Are you gonna be okay?"  
"I'll find something to do," He shrugged leaning over the car door, "Have a good day, okay?"  
"Ya," She nodded carefully but lifted her head, "I will." She sounded confident over it, "You too."  
He closed the door and stepped away from the car so she could start up the car and back out, the finished with an exchange of smiles and wave. He turned and walked to the house, a concerned frown replacing it. Entering the house he carefully closed the door, but after taking in the silence, he repeated almost the same thing he did when he'd been pulled into that strange place: Fell against the door and slipped to the floor. Tilting his head against the surface he whispered a quick question to himself, "What does he want from me?"  
Shaking his head he knew nothing in the house was going to answer him, and if it did he would be completely convinced he'd lost it, getting up he first headed for his room quickly changing his cloths and shoving the ones he'd been wearing before into the laundry, barely sure if he'd ever be comfortable wearing them again. Now feeling at least a bit better without them he continued what he'd intended.  
The computer was near the kitchen, in its own desk in a corner, Damien said he had full access to it just as long as he didn't go into any of the files on there. He didn't see what could be so secretive in the restaurant business but hadn't intended on going through it in the first place. Glancing through the icons he finally found the one that took him to the Internet.  
A search engine was the first thing to come up, he clicked into the bar, his hands came to being above the keyboard but in that he hesitated. Actually hesitated to typing the name.  
You can do this. Take it one step at a time  
W  
a  
l  
t  
e  
r  
S  
u  
He stopped again, closing his eyes trying to chase away the sick feeling.  
l  
l  
"Don't you want to know my name?"  
i  
v  
"I know you do."  
a  
n

Now that he'd completed the simple step of typing a name, he had to search. It wasn't as if he could come out of the computer... But... By searching it wasn't he just proving the man right? No, he just wanted an answer that was all.  
He clicked the mouse, and instantly sites were brought up, not even with the hundreds but past the thousands, the one calling himself Walter was a hot topic for years. There were blogs, opinions, news articles, some recent some even from ten years ago... He chose the one displaying an older article from 1994, re-posted later when the internet was more prominent, reading through the writer told of a man, Walter Sullivan, who had been charged for murder of children, twins, Billy and Miriam Locane he'd attacked them...  
He had to turn away for a bit... With an ax, the sister more than the brother, but that was only murder that he'd been charged for at court, the evidence of all the bodies pointed towards he killing them, a photo was next to the part, but it was bury, someone had their head down while the cops led them towards the car in handcuffs, they seemed to be male long hair obscured their face, it seemed to go past his shoulders to his chest.  
Was... He read the sub description, indeed it said so, this was Walter before he went to prison, he was even quoted in the article as saying when being taken away, "It wasn't me! I did it but the devil made me!" He denied killing them? Well, sort of... He said the devil made him kill them, who did it mean? Was he just crazy... That was a strong theory. Scrolling down he actually jumped with a gasp; there was another picture... This time he recognized it, it ripped bad memories from that subway right back into the open. The picture and the man... Exactly them same, no differences, he was looking towards the one taking the picture with a grin on his face, head lowered a bit as if to emphasize the creepy look. His hair was shoulder length in this; the article included a story from a guard. Apparently even criminals had issues with children being murdered, someone had gotten a hold of scissors and rather than committing murder ended up cutting off inches of his hair before they were caught.  
It ended with shocking information...  
Sullivan committed suicide in his jail cell by stabbing a soupspoon in his neck, in the carotid artery, drowning in his own blood.  
He was dead.  
The man called Walter Sullivan is dead.  
Had been.  
For ten years.  
His phone went off, causing him to nearly flail out of the chair, he took a few gasps of breath, holding his chest. Weren't Damien and Shannon working? He took the phone off of the table, looking at the front that displayed the callers ID 'Unknown'. He blinked, but flipped it open anyways, putting the phone up to his ear, "Hello?"  
"Help...Me..."  
"Huh... who..." Before he could completely question, the other line went dead leaving only a tone. The voice was... Strange, sounded without control and metallic but female. It made him think back to that woman who led him down to the subway with a grin on her face. He recalled how to call a number back, punching it in he waited while the phone rang for it to be picked up. He waited a long while with the phone ringing before a voice came on, he was about to respond but the message continued, "Hello this is Henry Townshend, I am either at work or can't get to the phone please leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can, thanks." And it beeped.  
He stayed still, completely mortified but the phone slipped from his hand clattering onto the ground... His voice was so empty... monotone, but that didn't matter... He'd just called his own phone.

Damien and Shannon arrived home at nine, each setting down differing bags and coats on the couch next the window. He had to act casual, but really, what was casual about asking of a ten years dead serial killer? When he walked into the living room Shannon was already walking into the kitchen and Damien pulled something from a medicine bottle, producing a small pill, he looked up noticing Henry's presence. His question before disappeared from mind, "What are those?" He asked.  
Damien half smiled, looking down at the medication in his hand, and returning the bottle to the drawer, and looked up, "They're for heart failure... Nothing to worry about really." He turned back, taking the medicine and drinking a glass of water, after setting it back he returned to his normal devious grin, "You had something else to ask before that, am I right?"  
As usual, Damien could look right through him, "Uh... Ya, do you know anything about a guy named Walter Sullivan..." He'd tripped over the sentence a few times... That didn't seem suspicious at all.  
He looked past Henry, walking to the computer, the screen was blackened but by moving the mouse it brought it back to life. He'd forgotten that he'd left the page up....  
Damien looked back, "What's with the sudden interest in Walter Sullivan?" He asked, obviously he was in fact, suspicious of something, he sat down staring at the screen, "Ya, I did an essay on him in college. He was an insane serial killer who shocked the world by killing ten people in ten days, brutally murdering each and carving numbers into each person, and the funny thing about it, is that it all ends with you."  
Shannon came up sighing, "Geeze Dan, no need to be so forward."  
"Is he really dead?"  
They both looked up towards him, his eyes dropped towards the floor in empty consideration, "Damien got up from the chair, his expression of sympathy and worry, he stepped close to Henry his height towering over Henrys but he was anything but intimidating, "Henry," He started, putting a hand on his shoulder, "Whoever did this to you..." He glanced at Henrys scarred hands, "In fact still out there, but I can promise you, Sullivan is dead."  
He looked down, nodding but soon heard Shannon sigh loudly, "Okay, okay Daniel we get it." She said pushing Damien from him.  
"Control yourself for two seconds," She whispered in a scolding tone.  
He gave her a sarcastic smile, "I do Shan."  
She shook her head, blond hair wisping from side to side, "Whatever, well, we've all had a long day and I don't know about you guys but I'm tired." She said heading up the stairs, "Night guys."  
They answered in unison, "Night,"  
"Oh, and Henry,"  
"Hm?" He responded, surprised.  
"If 'Damien' tries to force himself on you, just yell and I'll get my gun." She smiled and winked at him from the staircase.  
"Ah ah cela fille et ennuyeux..." He said rubbing the back of his neck, obviously talking to himself.  
"Why does she keep joking like that?" He asked looking up at Damien.  
His smile softened, "A cause de mon amour pour Henry,"  
Henry sighed, "Your not going to tell me what you mean are you?"  
"Non,"  
He stood a moment, thinking, when silence prevailed it just reminded him once again, sending a quick amount of memories, causing him to clench his fists, trying to keep it away, "Henry?" Damien asked leaning towards him in concern.  
"Oh, its... Nothing I'm just..." He couldn't say tired, even with all that occurred he didn't even feel he could sleep a wink, not just yet, "Do you guys have any notebooks of paper?"  
Damien canted his head curiously but walked to the computer desk taking a spiral notebook from the side, "Ya, what do you need it for?" He asked handing it to him.  
"Just need to write some things down..." He said almost in a mutter, staring at the red notebook, he looked up smiling, "Thanks." Damien however, had lost his normal grin he was looking to the side a bit upset looking, "Something wrong?" Henry asked.  
"Recommencer..." He said still not looking Henry's way until he took off his glasses, he wasn't really sure why he'd done this, but he started speaking again, "It means 'to start again'... When I asked if you wanted to start over again, I meant it, if you get away from this place then perhaps it will be like, comme si de Rien N'Etait... As if nothing happened..." He smiled again, but it was thin.  
This time, Henry couldn't look at him, he hated hurting the both of them, and that was exactely what he was doing, "I... I don't think I can do that..." He turned back to the staircase, walking up, "Good night Damien."  
"Bonne nuit," He answered, placing his glasses back on, and smiling.

Entering the guest room he found a pen in the small vanity dresser that accompanied it. He sat on the bed against the head board and began jotting down all he could.  
His name, the numbers, of Walter, of the strange place he'd been taken to, and that woman, not to mention the strange call he'd gotten linking to his own home... Staring at the ink lining a moment he felt... Tired... He didn't feel like he'd be able to even get near any state of unconsciousness, now... Perhaps it was from letting all this out his body and mind agreed. His eyes began to close in what felt to be a forced slumber. His hands dropped to his sides hitting the bed, faintly, he noticed that the pen slipped from his hand rolling to the floor. He didn't attempt to lay down, only lean against the head board. It had left him in a transitive state of awake and deep sleep. Only distantly did he hear footsteps coming towards him but... The door wasn't opened... The bed lowered slightly next to him signaling that someone had sat down.  
The notebook was removed from his lap and set down with a click somewhere, although he wasn't sure nor felt the will to care. Fingertips touched lightly against his jaw, stroking down his neck in careful and precise movements. He felt himself gently taken by the arms and set down on his back against the bed, the opposite person moved over him. One hand was taken by their while the other began running up his side to underneath his shirt. He flinched only slightly with this, wishing for more control over this, for it discontinue all together, but he could barley move.  
The hand moved further up his shirt, revealing his stomach, they leaned down kissing against his neck in only hesitant motions. He made a sound of discomfort, but only responsive was a slight chuckle.  
The worst part of it... It felt familiar... Oddly and terribly familiar... Happened somewhere... before...  
Their thumb stroked his palm, he finally noticed the bandage on his neck was gone, they were lightly kissing the marks, the cuts that had become like branded birthmarks in his skin, the person left these alone to lean up to his ear, "I want you... But I can't have you... Not yet..." Another chuckle whilst they ran their fingers through his hair, the hand that had trailed up his shirt was removed -leaving his shirt still moved- they began tracing his lips, "No one will take you away from me..." Their face came close to his, warm breath spilling over, lips close. This was quickly reverted, they came away, putting their hands under his back and knees lifting him up and the blankets he was placed back on the bed and the covers over him.

The sound of his cell phone was going off, he stayed unresponsive for only a short time, until the memories flooded back in a crashing motion. He jolted up in his bed, gasping in air before he slowed into gulping and glancing around the room. He didn't even consider the cell phone, the light was still on, and on the side table was -God dammit- his notebook, looking over he saw the pen lying on the ground, right where he felt it slip and drop from his hands. He was under the covers, reaching up...  
Oh fuck.  
The bandage from his neck, only finding the unnaturally smooth skin where scars were suppose to be marked. They'd become a part of him. Had someone... Had He actually come here and...He covered his mouth, feeling almost as if he could vomit. He would have if, and his realization came now, he had even eaten anything earlier... Still having the feeling deep in his stomach, he lent over the side of the bed, shoving the blankets off, his arms clenching his empty stomach. The phone began to ring again, he opened his eyes again, glancing at the desk, where he'd left it.  
The message he'd gotten from earlier... 'Help...Me...' He rushed over, flipping it open, "Hello?" He asked in a breath.  
"Where did you go?! Hurry, come and save me! If you need a token there's one-"  
The line went dead before he could do anything, he'd been pacing the room listening to the woman's words, "What the hell does it mean?" He said between his teeth staring at the phone, "What does she mean... Token?" What would he need a token for? He checked the received calls, Unknown. Of course...  
The light began flickering, glancing at it he watched as it shut off, "Huh..." It had left him with little light, only any that shown in from the window. He tried to turn the knob on it, even the plug. Nothing worked.  
"Sins Temptation." A voice broke through absolute silence, shattering it to pieces thick enough to slice. He swung around; backing away slightly in fear, standing in the corner of the room, next to the vanity dresser was Him. How the hell did he get here! Weren't the cops patrolling it on a more than constant basis! He decided on a distraction, hiding the phone behind his leg, somehow, maybe he could contact help, "How in the hell did you get here... Trying to finish the job... Or are finally ready to just turn yourself in?"  
Walter stepped out of the area, walking casually toward him, looking around the room as if it was a new place, he shook his head, "I was already arrested a long time ago Henry,"  
"No," Henry pointed towards him, denying the statement, maybe he could get to the door, -or get Damien and Shannon's attention but... Did he truly want to involve them?- "Walter Sullivan died ten years ago, your just a copy cat criminal, an attention seeker."  
That insane grin came onto his face, "Part of that is true, I did die those ten years ago..."  
He gulped, what was he getting at?  
"Henry, how do you explain the subway? All the things you saw?"  
His eyes switched from the male to the door, "There are lots of-"  
"And if you were being held captive, how were people being killed, one by one and giving you no chance of escape?" He was still smiling, "How can you find any logic?"  
He took a breath in, and took a fleeting chance, he sprinted for the door, trying to make a break for it, immediately he felt an arm slam into his abdomen with breath taking force, the same arm slung around him, pulling back, "Damien! Shannon!" He tried screaming, someone had to notice! He felt his feat leave the floor as he was pulled, he attempted to struggle out of his attackers grasp, even knock over anything. His heart skipped a beat when his foot hit the drawer near his bed, knocking it, and the lamp colliding onto the floor with a large crash. This feeling of small triumph was quickly dashed away, he was flung back onto the bed; wrists pinned down with painfully bruising strength.

Henry thrashed against his hold, like hell was he going to let this be the day that he dies, and like hell he was going to let what happened before occur once again.  
The insane smile stayed on his face, looking down at Henry as if this was some kind of fun game, "Do you believe anyone can hear you?" The smile faded as he spoke, "No one can save you..." Darkness began engulfing the room, Walters voice fading away into nothing, "You will always belong to me..."  
When all sight and feeling had returned to him he realized he was walking into a lighter area, his eyes trailed the area in disdain, "Not again..." He muttered to himself, he was in the deformed subway once again, carts for transportation to his right.

Henry sat on one of the benches, his arms slung uselessly over his legs, back hunched over and head dropped with it. What the hell did he do in his past life to deserve this? Oh wait, it wasn't karma at all; it was damn blond in the blue coat making his life miserable. And most likely an 'again' should be tacked on there.  
"How did I get here anyways?" He muttered to himself, raising his head to look around. He shook his head, brown hair hanging down before he exhaled, forcing himself up. He couldn't just sit here the entire time, having a pity party. When the man calling himself Walter attacked him the first time he was able to get out wasn't he... Then he could do it again.  
It was time to try. That is in lose pajamas and barefoot, he wasn't very confident on that matter, the ground held a repulsive amount of mysterious substances, but his health wasn't what mattered here anyways now was it? Crossing the station, the area being illuminated, strangely enough, by stray lamps. He took the doors handle trying to twist it open, but it refused only jingling, frustrated, he attempted to bash into it. Once. Twice. Damn, it wasn't going to work... Breathing in through his nose he looked back where he'd originally been. Three options remained: Another staircase, the cars; the door across from him. He'd decided on the staircase first. Walking back he gambled whether taking the railing was a good idea... He decided on just keeping his arms at his side. Against what he wanted the staircase was completely blocked off by fallen pieces of metal. Trying to move it only constituted being crushed to death.  
He shook his head; stepping back down the stairs, what he saw caused more shock than before. There were creatures down below, wandering around like scavengers. Their shape took on the same as a skinny dog; their bodies however had more rotten flesh showing on its body, only small tufts of fur in few patches other than that. More sickening then the rest of it, long tongues hung down to the floor, dragging along with their dead appearance. He tried to stay low; he had no way of protecting himself...  
Speak of the devil.  
Someone had joined the group, holding a large gun... Huh... The man looked... Exactly like him... Brown parted hair, tan skin, same height and posture, but his hair hung into his eyes like a shroud, keeping them covered. The biggest thing standing out was his outfit, white button up with an undershirt, jeans, and black dress shoes. The same outfit from when... but something differed, colors of black and red streaked the top.  
The one matching his looks didn't even glance Henry's way, but he raised the gun the two handles in his hands, taking the right position he pulled the trigger. Henry actually found himself unable to watch; he ducked down more listening to loud sounds of nonstop bullets going off and cries of the creatures below. Just as it began, it ended... He listened for anything but only heard a clack and footsteps fading away. He stood up slowly; standing at the entrance was... Him... Walter smiled at him, smug as usual, the man identical to him walked past him into the subway and after a moment, Walter too walked in  
He was alone once again; finally he stepped down the staircase, one foot at a time. He glanced around to the mess left behind, the dog like creatures corpses were strewn across the concrete floors, disfigured in their large pools of blood that seeped beneath them into the cracks and crevices. Looking away didn't bring any satisfaction, something shone in the light of the lights above where he'd been previously moping on the bench, some kind of large gun. His eyes traveled up, purposeful streaks of blood were made on the wall, used to spell out large words directed more than likely to him.  
Use it well Henry  
He grit his teeth, eyes narrowing into an enraged expression. More of these... These... He snatched the gun up, ignoring its weight, he looked up towards the ceiling, "You want me to play your damn game?! I'll play it!" He took strangled breaths through his teeth before calming, letting his arms drop to his sides, the gun finally weighing him down, now he felt like a fool... He directed his attention to the open door of the subway carts... It wasn't as if he had a real choice... Take the way his look alike and Walter took or be stranded here with the bleeding and soon to be rotting corpses of monsters killed with the very gun he held in his hand.  
"This..." He began to say, but what was there to say? He was alone, 'This is ridiculous?' No matter his feelings on the situation it wasn't as if someone was going to begin caring. Careful to hop over the large puddles grouping together with the dead he walked through the door, he grimaced at the floors, they were worse than the outside. It truly wouldn't have fazed him if he was wearing a comfortable pair of shoes on his feat, but his bare skin was all that could touch down.  
He walked looking from side to side, on one side a gray colored mannequin hung from wires strung up from the sides, while its broken off body parts were placed on the seats and ground. The sight bore the imagery version of a massacre rather than this strange display.  
He shook his head swooping around trying to ignore what he viewed. The door on the opposite end only clicked when he tried to pull it open, showing that the lock on the other side was broken, refusing him entrance.  
"Dammit..." He growled through his bared teeth, to the side was another open door out to a small hall of concrete. Squinting his eyes in annoyance toward the cold he lowered both feat down onto it. Up ahead to the left was his destination, another open door to the next cart. Entering in his eyes began searching for possibilities... Something struck him... Red streamed to the door in small puddles, he tried any option, any other option than to fallow it... Nothing was presented to him, the doors refused him exit; obviously he was wanted to fallow this and wasn't going to let him turn away. Readjusting the large gun he wasn't sure was the name of exactly, he hadn't -thankfully- found a reason to shoot it, but it was a weight he wasn't comfortable with having on his person.  
Grasping the handle with his left hand he pulled it open, the stream continued on, a door on the side was where he was led to another concrete way through. What the hell was this? He sighed; this was like some kind of puzzle. Walking down to the other side of the car to the next one to the other side all the way down, figuring it out would have tried his patience as he had a feeling eventually he'd end up lost or back on the side with the corpses, where he'd most likely lose his temper like a child. He wasn't sure if he should feel any thanks for this 'helpful' trail of, what might be, blood of some sort.  
He got his answer. He gasped when he'd walked into the last of the trail; falling backwards Henry hit the metal of the subway wall. A mannequin form sat on the seat of a bench inside the car. Unlike the stuck together plastic figures that were strewn throughout the subway, this one was sculpted perfectly, like a wax figurine made from a sculptors skilled hand.  
It was him. A version of the way he was now, in a white tee shirt and baggy pajama bottoms, but head bowed and arms on either side of the seat, as if he'd drifted off to sleep, the bangs were covering fake eyes so he couldn't tell if it was representative of slumber, or perhaps death. One thing bothered him the most, the whole thing was colored in the light gloomy hues but in one slightly curled hand was a shining piece of metal. He wasn't sure but this must be something. Bringing up his courage he leaned over, setting down the gun, taking his hands over its, he pulled them open and they slightly responded, but similar to rigor mortis they were slightly stiff. The digits slowly opened to a full palm with his force, inside it was finally revealed, a key with a small swirling copper attachment to it. He took it from it, hurrying back away. God damn he hated this place... Breathing in, eyes closing for a moment, he pulled the gun back up into his hand rushing completely out of there. Finally in the last car he didn't need the assistance of blood trails. The hallway looked similar to the last, wooden benches with lamps set on them and random newspapers with blurred print making the stories illegible.  
This round however, there was only one door on the left side, green eyes locked on it as the key pressed into the skin of his hand. Lifting each foot and ignoring the terrible feel of it against the ground he made his way over to the single door. Turning the doorknob it only did slightly; it was locked. So that was the purpose of the key, the flipped it around so that the curved angles could be slipped into the slot and turn. He was finally able to get out of these areas and into a new room. The locked room was simple, a concrete box room and in the corner was a ladder leading down towards who knows what. The whole room let out a red glow, he wasn't sure how, there were no lights, but he didn't exactly care right then. His arms dropped directly to his sides as he strode over to the source of the red glow, a perfect circle was drawn into it with symbols of different sorts, more rings went inside and in the very center were three circles and more shapes that had no real meaning to him. He lifted his open hand pressing it flat against it.  
But the middle... He canted his head curiously... Were those supposed to be there? Wasn't it...  
Wasn't it what? He wasn't sure what the hell he was trying to get at. Pushing away he gave himself a full view of the whole anomaly trying to pick up each and every detail within it, memorize it. The next step mattered which gave a similar effect to what he was doing.

Climbing down the ladder was easier said than done. This clunky piece of metal was taking up one of his hands; it was a difficult process. He decided on a much more simple minded decision, tucking it under his arm trying to keep as tight of a hold as he could and carefully taking slow climbs down. At first he saw metal still, dark, almost black, but soon it began changing as he went, dark and light reds, a strange texture to it, in ways no texture what so ever, just shining flesh like substance. He got down with a hop, letting the gun down to the ground to straighten himself out. When he'd picked it back up, something felt strange; his head was hurting slightly. Maybe it was from the stress of this stupid place, when he turned, a terrible surprise showed itself.  
A hitched cry escaped from his throat as he stumbled away, clutching his weapon desperately, breathing quickly.

A spirit... That was the first thing that came to mind... The corner of the hall held a woman, a purple skirt blouse and hat all pointing towards being middle aged. His mind flashed back to the waitress, back in North Ashfield in the warm welcoming cafe with the strange young girl and short friendly conversations.  
Her feet didn't seem to be touching the floor, moreover, she seemed to be hanging there with no attachments in sight making her seem like a cleverly done prop. He stepped forward more towards her, "Ah..." He lightly touched his forehead, the headache was like water; barley there but he could still feel it there... She wasn't making any attempts to come for him no matter how aggressive the appearance seemed. He looked down, at her feet was a candle, was this what kept her place? He could see however, that the small lighting was slowly dissolving, he couldn't be sure if that was what was the barrier, but he wasn't going to stick around to be sure of that. Beginning his journey on the uncomfortable grating he went down the hall, in the middle was two intersections. One led down a hallway with a turn going who knows where. He grimaced, two males holding the same appearance as the first and a candle were placed in the two corners. He decided to go straight down to another ladder, it would be a hassle to get the gun with him, but he'd rather try that approach before going to the unknown of that hall. He tucked it under his arm as he did before, grasping the side rails he struggled up, when he'd reached far enough he led the gun up and slipped it into the opening to the floor, giving him an easier time for the rest of the climb.  
This room was similar to the one with the symbol, but without the red markings it gave a dull light on the concrete room, cold and bleak. Henry sighed, sitting down, letting his legs hang down through the square hole. Stress was something he wasn't going to let effect him at this time, but he was in fact tired. He legs ached from walking, arm hurt from holding the heavy gun, and feat soar, scraped, cut, from the different flooring he was forced to travel against. Staying like this for long wasn't a bright idea though he decided, knowing this place something was bound to reach up and take his leg, dragging him who knows where. He slipped them back up, taking the metal contraption that had become like a dangerous companion, and pushed back into a standing position, heading towards the door. When he opened it he was greeted with certain attributes that he recalled from not to long ago. The long strip that light source consisted of lamps on benches where people in the real world were meant to be. Another familiar portion that he regretted had returned... A bloody trail against the ground that led up to the first bench and up onto it, dripping just as the hair had his first round here. There was something else however; curiously approaching it he could see what it was. A small cloth doll belonging to a child most likely, it looked hand made, with black hair a blue dress and white skin. What was such an object doing here?  
The strangest matter was... He felt like it belonged to him... His hand unconsciously lifted up, reaching for it. He shook his head, feeling foolish. Nothing here belonged to him, this gun was only a borrowed thing meant to keep a sense of security and safety, nothing more or less. That doll wasn't his just as he didn't belong in this place; he was more than ready to leave. Turning he felt his arm grabbed in a painful jerk, he was forced to look towards his side and felt himself paralyzed by fear.

It was the man from earlier, who had the gun before...  
Use it well.  
He'd killed all those dogs and now Henry had a perfect view of him. Brown parted hair, jeans with black dress shoes, a button up shirt. He could now see they weren't alike. They were exactly the same. Blood ran dry onto his shirt, face, and neck to his, he looked away before viewing his eyes, he was reminded of something.  
Lifeless.  
Eyes gone. Gouged out most likely.  
Blood running from dark holes, black with the missing orbs. Out of everything, this most made him want to vomit. His arm was harshly grabbed, so that he was looking up again. No, he didn't want to look or see this sick version of himself. They being the same height forced him to look straight at the face of his copy. No expression was given, but even so he met up with green hues. The eyes laid rest where they were meant to be. Momentarily, he stared back, something driving him towards feeling relief that they were still there, but he reminded himself of what he looked towards. He ripped from the hold jumping back, glaring in the others direction. No real reaction, just a stare. He whipped around, rushing out.  
The doppelganger watched until the door clicked closed. He walked to the doll, picking it up delicately. Holding it in both against his chest he examined it with a sad frown.  
He heard the soft taps of shoes but didn't turn for a silent greeting. The woman brought a hand up to her chest in worry; her skin held black and red marks across, making her being look painful. "He didn't take it did he?"  
The man shook his head, she sighed walking up next to him, depressed pull down of her lips and dip of eyebrows showed her distain towards what the aftermath would be, "He's not going to be happy is he..."  
Master... The doll was meant to be on Henrys person, to be a backup of His hold of the original, just as the cuts did, meant for harm rather than its intent from a little girls offering of happiness. The copy didn't speak nor move for a time, "Yes..." He spoke, his voice was small, strained, nothing like Henry's...  
"But... It keeps him still slightly safe..." She said softly pushing an amount of thin brown hair out of her eyes. She regretted deeply saying this for the failure of him leaving the doll meant worse for his double but...  
"Yes..." There was a thin smile on the doubles face as he held the doll that was once of her belonging, she didn't have any reason for wanting it back, "We are one in the same..." He seemed to be speaking to the toy, "Dolls only meant for purpose..."

He'd climbed down the ladder and now he was set for the continuation of his venturing to rid himself of his surroundings. Gulping down the saliva that had collected in his mouth and throat he strode past the two male beings situated all to close to him in the thin passage. Not taking to much time to wonder why a door lye where there was no need, he found what was around the corner it was a staircase leading down to the underneath of the subway. His eyes widened, the door held the same symbol that had drawn him towards that wall, causing his heart to flutter strangely. What did it mean? Either way he stepped down the stairs, the light darkened much to dramatically for his taste. He heard an electrical noise sizzle from above; canting his head to see what was making it happen he saw the lights from the upper floor began to flash to off slowly taking steps to make this part of the building inhabitable. Just as Henry pushed the door open and exited the last light flickered off.  
A large cage displaying the encrusted bodies of mannequins sat in the middle of the room, benches surrounding it like some kind of sick ornament for this demented world. He grunted, irritated with this, this 'Game' as he'd aptly named it earlier. His attention didn't lye on the rusted decoration for long, clicking sounds echoed off the walls, claws against concrete. Around the wall and out of the subway carts were the same design of dogs that had been wandering earlier. This round however he -the one in thin pajamas and with no shoes- was left with the duty of taking care of the appalling monsters that obviously spotted, or in fact smelt, his where about. The bound towards him, disgusting long tongues traveling with him, rotting legs bouncing off dirt covered floors. He grit his teeth, he shook slightly raising the gun into both hands to aim. This was taking a life wasn't it? Wasn't it?  
Could it?  
Can you kill what already seems to be dead?  
In his aghast moment, one had cleverly snuck to his side, out of site, it flew forward, clamping its jaw done as teeth collided with the skin on his legs, the sharp daggers sinking down into his flesh. He cried out lowed, tears building at the side of his eyes. He pained and terrified expression faded into anger, he gripped the gun pointing it down at the one attempting to make his body its next blood thirsted meal. He pulled the trigger letting off a loud and long stream of bullets, it screeched before flailing to the ground red blood splattering in every direction from the collision of bullets that had just earlier taken the life of its own kind.  
The other two were not at all shaken by the loss of their comrade, they seemed delighted in some way by the new smell of freshly spilled blood, but their attention was taken away by the man who took their life. The thicker, and most likely more appealing smell given by the blood leaking from the freshly opened wounds on his leg brought them to try an attack on him just as the dead one had. He didn't hesitate; he lifted the gun and pulled the trigger once again. They fell, to the ground, bleeding profusely and not rising to try.  
"Dammit!" He yelled out, dropping to the ground and curling his hand around the deep wound inserted in his leg. His breath was a quick pant in pain; he didn't feel the will to stand. Above him he heard static and than a click, someone had turned on an intercom.  
"Henry I found the exit, come to the turnstile," They repeated this statement again, more urgently, it was the same voice as the woman on the telephone, she gasped, "Hurry! Hurry, he's coming!" The voice cut out, along with the transition.  
His breath slowed, he felt a sudden surge of anger course through his body, snatching up the gun he'd abandoned to the ground stepping over the dogs he ignored his leg, giving in to only a slight limp. He winced a few times, but made it around the corner a trail of blood left behind... Just like what led him to the key and doll... On one side there was a slight path, but broken pieces of metal were cut down in front of it so he didn't think twice. An escalator leading into darkness. The dark was something he'd need to be use to in the end, he guess. Lifting his legs without ease -One side in pain, one side weighed down- The escalator wasn't in operation, it was a useless metal staircase now so he didn't let himself stop for one second, he had to go on, but as he made his way up he saw more of the horrors this world would bring. Both sides of the walls held a human shaped creature, upper body melded into the wall while its upper was bare only brown skin and hairless heads, all of them baring the same looks. They hung down in the dim lighting, their long arms almost reaching the ground while their backs were hunched over the connection to the wall kept them up slightly. They were like Halloween decorations waiting for a Haunted House, but he too fit the decor in white clothing stained with blood.  
He felt at any moment they could attack, could lung towards him with monstrous strength but in the long distance; the only thing affected was his morality in the slightest. His leg had become a bothersome pain as he came to flat ground again; he leaned against the wall gasping in the stale air, which gave him no amount of satisfaction. He wanted to fall down again, lye there until the pain disappeared but he knew full well that it would only bleed until everything would turn black, bringing only eternal damnation of death. "God..." He finally had at least one what could be considered brilliant. He sat down with his gun next to him, not to rest but to fix the wound. Lifting his pant leg up past the wound he got a better look of it. Gory, of course. He went to his other pant leg, grasping the edge he pulled as hard as he could, soon the fabric began to tear away from the stitches, he got it to begin a rounding stream from his left pant leg. His ankle would go bear but that didn't matter to him, he tore it off switching to his right, holding one side down with his thumb he began to tightly wind it against the bloody injury, the pressure would lighten the blood streaming out, after making a tight tie at the end he sighed, liberation was brought to him as the pain subsided much more. He decided to examine the area now that he had a bit more control over himself; makeup with dried blood was carelessly thrown to the ground in a path. He looked up, a door to an office was near by him...  
He slipped his hand around the gun, a tightening began in his chest but he ignored it. This was it; this was where... He opened the door and found himself correct. Walter stood, leaned against a group of machines; gazing off, dry blood covered the room, a part of the ground prominent in it. In some sick way, Henry expected him to be there, Henry rose the gun pointing it in his direction, "Your here..." He said, it sounded all too casual.  
Walter shook his head, as if denying something, his eyes came towards Henry's direction sending ice cold daggers, he pointed towards the bloody ground, "She died... Right there." His eyes traveled down not even reacting to the gun, but to his legs, one blood drenched the other with cloth torn away from it, his lips pursed into a slight smile, "Look at you, I didn't know you'd make yourself such a mess so quickly with a weapon at your disposal."  
Henry glanced from the ground to himself even, he disregarded Walter's statement, wanting answers for himself, "This whole world you created it didn't you? How the hell are you doing this?"  
The smile became wider, opening a small bit almost to a toothy grin, but he seemed to be taking Henry's statements in slow delight, "Do you like it?" He asked, actually questioned if Henry enjoyed this menacing place he'd be drug into, he sighed though, taking a stained hand through his long hair, "We've already been through this Henry," His voice sounded playful, but stressed all the same.  
Henry glared at him, "I'm sure we have."  
Something strange must have clicked, Walters cunning smile became a look of panic, he pushed away from the machines, striding towards him, "But we have, all of it, it was all done... Than... She needs you Henry. Mom needs you, she will not be completed without you," Henry kept the gun up, but in that mans presence he felt weak, defenseless so he backed away but kept a border up between them with the weapon, but still recalled how well that worked last time, "After you left us everything became dark. You are still my last Sacrament Henry," He reached a hand seeming to want to reach for his neck, but Henry jerked the gun up threateningly, like he wanted those damn dirty hands anywhere near him.  
"What are you saying?! That I'm a sacrifice!" He questioned, heart thrumming in his rib cage. They'd begun down the stairs in the slow escape and pursuit. Henry felt worse being on the lower step on the escalator, but it was better than being shoved against a wall by the damn man.  
Walter stared at him bringing his hand up, "Don't use such simple words for yourself Henry. Your so much more than a life given to a God, no you were, are the very last... The Receiver of Wisdom... My Receiver of Wisdom."  
"Shut the hell up, your insane!" He shook his head, "Just who are you? Walter Sullivan is dead..."  
He smiled again, a predatory look off that of something born of evil, "Henry Henry Henry," He repeated his name like speaking to a child, he began down the stairs again, towards him, "Without chains and locks on your door why is it so hard for you to understand things?"  
Chains? He gasped, a sudden surge crashing into his nerves of his mind, he let go of the gun letting it clatter to the ground, he dug his fingers into his skull bending over slightly leaning against the divider between the escalators, he pressured his palms in as if the pain would subside do to this. Words kept flashing into his mind, blocking his view.  
Don't  
Don't  
Don't go ou  
D n 't g out  
Don't go out  
He squinted his eyes, feeling different emotions contrasting one another. Loneliness. Solitary confinement. With a step that all fled, he felt himself slipping backwards towards the depths below, no longer having a sense of balance. The pain mattered no longer. An arm swiped his pulling him back only slightly, letting him still hang by his heels, the only thing keeping him from a nasty fall was the person he wanted to avoid at all cost. Walter. A smug smirk slowly came into view, "Your just as vulnerable as ever." He let his hand go slight, fear was slain into his heart as he slipped again, but Walter grasped his hand, keeping him from falling. He was just playing with him. Sick bastard.  
"I am Walter Sullivan Henry, and I will prove it and I will have my mother back," The smile left, "You'll see..."  
He watched him, calm lifeless eyes staring back into fear stricken, "You were always so beautiful in white."  
He jerked him forward, back onto the stair but when he still had his hand he brought Henry towards him, his tongue ran along his cheek, removing forgotten blood that had been left there, Henry's eyes widened, Walter grabbed him again, smirking his hand reached down for the wound on his leg running his hand against it, "I choose what happens here Henry," He pulled the handmade bandage away allowing Henry to stumbled down the stairs, this time without nearly plummeting, his hand covered the cheek Walter had... Had licked... Then he'd... His leg was fine; blood splattered but had returned to unwounded.  
Walter reached down as if nothing had happened, taking the gun into his hands. It was in the possession of the man who brought him here.  
"Come along," Walter spoke quietly, stepping past Henry towards the bottom staircase. He could run, his legs were useful again, but with the gun in Walters hands he knew they were both easy targets if Walter wasn't planning to kill, then he was easy to be drug down the stairs and vulnerable to any sick ideas that came to Walters demented mind.  
Swallowing his pride Henry fallowed him down the stairs, getting the feeling of being a dog on a leash. Except dogs didn't mind not being barefoot. They went on in silence, Henry being led down different flights of stairs, turning halls, all throughout places he'd not even been aware was there during his time alone. They went through a door taking down a spiraling staircase. Henry kept his eyes locked on the back of the other mans head, making sure he didn't pull anything. He glanced down, the weapon was held at Walters side, it didn't seem easy to get but perhaps...  
"If your thinking of trying to take this from me I suggest reconsidering," Walter spoke up, tearing Henry's eyes away from it.  
"Now your going to tell me your a mind reader right?" Henry grunted, annoyed slightly.  
"Pure psychology Henry," He spoke back, still quietly. Psychology? Of anyone here Henry didn't Walter was the best person to be stating anything of the human mind. Henry looked down a little; he'd been addressing him by Walter when referring to him but... He looked at his encrusted surroundings, was it so hard to believe? "Where are taking me?" He questioned finally, in Walters sudden quiet attitude he felt a bit stronger to speak.  
Walter looked up with an un-amused look on his face past his thick strands of hair, "I think you have no choice of where your going Henry,"  
"Your not trying to kill me," Henry said, almost mocking, while tilting his head "You've had repetitive chances where I was an easy target for you, how do I know I even have to listen to you?"  
He turned, smile still missing, and lifted the gun into both hands, "Because Henry, I am the one with the gun and you do not even have shoes on," Walter walked up the steps to where Henry had stopped, pressuring the end to his shoulder, "Your the one whose hands are shaking at the sight of blood on your clothing."  
His eyes went wide, looking down he found Walter absolutely correct.  
Walter took another step pressing the gun painfully into his skin, "If you need any proof than I hope you don't care to deeply for the nerves connecting your shoulder to your arm..."  
Walter was a step below him, but even then he had all power over Henry, they met eye to eye and Henry was locked there in every way. The dullness that had resided in the green eyes was gone, he should have seen it before, but something had blocked him from that, hidden it and now it was obvious. He was more than willing, willing to shoot the gun drag him down the stairs to wherever the darkness led.  
And the worst part was, as Henry could see enraged insanity within Walter he knew Walter could see him clearly. The effect his presence, eyes, voice all left him in a state of terrified petrifaction.  
"So I suggest you fallow me..."  
He whipped around, gliding down the stairs his shoes clunking as he did. Henry felt obscenely defeated; he fallowed Walter down the staircase, arguing no longer mattering to him. He glanced at the walls, flat as stone, it didn't seem right. In fact, the whole place being inside seemed wrong. Had he done this before?  
After minutes passed by, a door came into view he looked a little bit more noticing the symbols from two times before. He stopped on the staircase, mind lost within the markings and door held on it.  
He didn't notice Walter had halted too, staring intently at him. At the moment, Walter considered, Henry's was like that of a child. It was all instinctual, just needed to be brought out, like spelling ones name, he was the Receiver of Wisdom once again but... He had no real control over him like before, without the embrace of Mother he was exposed to the filthy world. He pitied his ignorance but was infuriated by Henry at the same time.  
How could he forget? Eventually it became how dare he forget. He'd thought Henry different from others, he'd chosen Henry, thinking Mother had guided him towards the young brunette, but he left. Pulled the trigger and left. Now he had him once again, he was close enough to touch, to hurt, to break, but Henry could leave him now.  
And he was happy. He was happy with the man called Damien and woman Shannon. Meaningless, nothing to Mother, but Henry found light within them. A light that could easily be extinguished just by the slash of an ax, a crash from a pipe, trigger of a gun, splitting skin open could splatter and darken pure walls of white, on himself on his young prey who would grit his teeth in terror as he was left alone in the world. All except Walter himself and Mother.  
He exited from his imagination, he looked up at Henry, who finally found himself blinking and shaking his head, before he could look towards Walter he began down the stairs, beckoning Henry to fallow, who did without an ounce of want. When they'd come to the platform before the door Walter stood aside, nodding for Henry to continue past him, who looked towards the gun and sighed, doing so. Walter walked behind him when the door was reached he lent over Henry, opening it for him.  
He walked in, the room was mostly dark; he let his eyes adjust for a moment. The platform continued forward, although the room was larger than it, the strip of metal having drop downs at either side, going over the side didn't mean well. He looked forward more where the darkness seemed to collect, at first his mind blanked. He fell back, while a yell caught in his throat breath quickening through his chest.  
A thing was hooked to the wall, hair longer than any he'd ever seen stretched out to the opposite walls, he could see its feminine face, cuts on its lips and inclines of red marks on its gray tinged face, the rest of its body was concealed by the hair.  
He stared, horrified, "What is that?" He questioned, louder than intended.  
Walter was calm, as usual, "Cynthia, Sins Temptation,"  
"C-Cynthia?" He repeated, he looked at it... It was... A woman? He quickly rid himself of petty fear, getting to his feat whipping around, "You did this... Didn't you?"  
His eyes were narrowed in rage, he felt hate, truly understanding the meaning of the strong word. He was sick of it, this man; his sick delusions. He didn't have long to fulfill speaking, he heard a sound, like something flying through the air, but did not have enough time to turn around. What felt like wires wrapped around his wrists and ankles, once having a good hold on him they clenched in deeper, slicing through the pajama bottom that was still repaired, slicing through, into skin.  
He was cruelly thrust back, smashing into the wall behind him the amount of wire like hair covering it wasn't helping his situation. His head dropped, he felt the thick red substance run down his arms in streams, a puddle forming at his feat, proving attempted moving useless. He heard clunking against the metal, echoing across the room, he was being walked towards. He didn't bother to look up, just hung there like a strung up doll. Skin of fingers brushed along his jaw line to his chin, the two appendages lifted his head, forcing him to look up, once again meeting with a stare from Walter. He breathed out, to yell to argue he had no idea. Insults proved against him, as Sullivan always had the upper hand in it all, the man would just entertain the thought of killing him more, or bring him suffering. No matter what his mind conjured, he just stood still, letting out ragged breaths.  
"You will never learn will you?" He spoke softly, almost mumbling to himself, his other hand busied itself with running up from Henry's hip to his side. Bringing him into this world, attacking him, helping him only to inflict damage again, what had happened on the escalator, what was happening now; Walter spoke so thoroughly of his mother but he himself always seemed to come into play when it came to ownership over Henry. He'd begun to find Walters actions questionable.  
He let out a few shaky breaths before speaking, "I hate you..."  
Walter didn't respond, for a time he didn't even move, Henry didn't look to see what reaction the statement had brought forth. Anger or absolute uncaring, Henry didn't see. Walter let go of his chin, letting his head fall back down as he was completely out of energy.  
He could see shoes step back out of sight.  
With careful slips not to damage his skin and flesh any further, the hair receded back, letting his bleeding form tumble to the ground. He lifted himself onto his hands and knees against the cold metal, struggling to look up; Walter was gone.  
He looked around quickly, to see if it was a trap, but no sound was made, no movement in the shadows. When he caught sight of the door, all that happened was lost in the back of his mind for a few blissful moments. Ignoring the pain from his sliced apart skin making almost ribbons at the injured areas, he burst forward toward it in a pathetic run, he almost tripped but caught the handle, forcing the door open and bounding through. When his feat hit familiar ground he jerked around, he had come through the bathroom door from the house he shared with Damien and Shannon.


	5. Reflection

**Okay I know the whole eyes ripped out thing is sort of known as an Impaired thing but remember, the Haunting! Henry does have its eyes cut out, so I am not trying to copy the fan fiction.**

****

Eileen and the Doppelganger waited in the subway for Walter's return, it was an unwanted matter but as parts of this world they had no other choice. They sat up when the door creaked open, he walked in, regretfully, his expression and posture belayed that his mood was past enraged. He glanced at the two, his eyes leading down to the male's hands, the cloth toy was there; it was supposed to be with Henry…

"You were unable to give it to him?" He questioned, voice controlled but his anger over the event still showed all too obviously.

"He wouldn't take it." The clone spoke in its hushed voice, blood stained eyes glancing down, he couldn't look the man in the eyes; terror would run through his false heart. Even as he tried to bring reason in it he knew that this was unacceptable.

Walter grabbed him by the hair, the grip could easily rip it away, "You were given a task and failed… I gave you your eyes back for that reason, I could easily cut them out again."

The clutch that dug into his roots forced him to stare back; he couldn't speak, could only give a terrified look into treacherous green eyes.

"Walter," Eileen spoke up, voice finally steadied, strong, if Henry could face him like those days when he tried to protect her, than she could, she just had to think of him, he looked at her, calming a bit but still impatient in what she had to state, "Leave him alone, he tried…"

He blinked, looking down at Henry's clone, sighing he let go with a rough shove causing him to stumble back, "You're lucky Ms. Galvin spoke up for you." He said walking from them, out of the room.

He was still staring down when the door clicked closed, "Thank you…" He whispered quietly.

She smiled, putting her hand on his back in comfort, "Your welcome."

This time… This time she'd protect him.

****

Was it another dream? Was he just being delusional? He lifted his right wrist, examining it. Distant thin red markings were etched into his skin; he quickly looked to his left than down to his pants legs…. His heart stopped… One was ripped, torn off from its place… in its place was the same faint slit marks that went round his open skin. This was…

"Impossible…" He muttered kneeling to the floor, going back into a sitting position on the ground. His hand ran against his neck. But it was possible, it was too possible, all of it was real, and it had its claws clutching him tightly, as painfully as the wire like hair. It was all because of these marks, twenty one out of… "The last…" He recalled when Walter had rambled to him, all about him being the last Sacrament, that's what it meant…

He was going to fall apart, if he didn't do anything he'd simply break. Taking a deep breath he went to the room's dresser retrieving a new pair of day clothes to be worn, taking the pajamas off and replacing it, making sure to put on a coat to cover his arms. He knelt down, leaning under the bed and removed the backpack that had been with him since the 'Beginning'. He unzipped it, catching a glimpse of his button up shirt and jeans, grimacing he shoved the pajamas down, pushing it all to the bottom.

He tossed it on his bed, pacing the room for a moment. The city and his room, neither was safe, was South Ashfield really a good idea either?

He thought back to Damien's statement, of leaving… Would that… Work?

****

Damien knelt down, flicking on the lighter in the fire place, slowly the flame spread out creating a big enough fire, he stood back up, Henry and Shannon stood close by behind him, "Are you sure about this?" He asked, gesturing to the fire.

Henry's fingers tightened into the material of the backpack, he quickly nodded, "Ya… I'm sure."

Damien smiled softly, "I'm glad," He stepped out of the way, letting Henry walked forward, in a strange way, he felt like opening the back, taking one last look at the blood stained clothing as if it was some sort of memento, but he knew what it was. It was dead weight on his shoulders, reminding him over and over by own the pieces of clothing that the stains were his blood, caused from damage to his body by that man. He had to rid himself of it, destroy any evidence that it happened… Taking in a deep breath, he threw his arms forward so that the pack fell into the fire, they all quietly watched as it crackled and became burnt and blackened, turning in on itself, the heat reaching the inside, burning anything on the inside. Lightly, he could smell burning blood.

Shannon took him by the arm, he looked down, she smiled lightly, "Come on, you've watched it enough…"

"And anyways," Damien said stretching his arms up, "The two of us have the day off, so we should all do something!"

"No way," Shannon sighed, "Not another one of your crazy ideas, I'm staying here today and relaxing on my day off."

"Such a bore," He said, poking her in the forehead, she grinned smacking his hand away and headed towards the kitchen.

"Anyways," She called as she walked in, when she stepped back out she was tying the black apron that Damien normally used as he cooked around her waist, "I'm going to work on lunch, but Henry, could you go upstairs to my room and fill up a bath for me?"

Before he could answer Damien quickly followed her into the kitchen, "Woman!" Henry heard him say as he turned to go upstairs; "Don't be trying to steal my trade!"

For a moment Henry was able to smile, but as he neared the upper regions of the house he felt his heart drop, a forceful depression coming on. He leaned against the wall, hand covering his eyes. How the hell was he supposed to explain anything to them? He couldn't… They wouldn't understand this…This… Spiraling pit of insanity? Or was he truly being taken into these worlds by a man who had control over them- And the point? To apparently sacrifice him for reasons he himself couldn't figure out, but it was there, somewhere in his mind there was a door waiting to be opened. Should it be? But was he safe anywhere at all? Were they safe as long as he was around them, how long could Walter remain patient with this sudden memory loss that seemed to hinder his plans, would he go after either of them… He couldn't be sure. For now, he walked down the hall towards Shannon's room to do as she asked of him.

Her room was obsessively clean, perfectly made bed that looked as if it belonged it a department store layout for examples. A tan brown blanket with silver and brown pillows and a mosquito net surrounding it, he noticed a photograph on the dresser near a few unlit candles –those seemed necessary only for decoration- was a photo in a silver frame, she stood next to a auburn haired man with glasses, his arm was around her and they smiled at the camera like they'd been previously laughing. At the bottom it read:

I'm always yours Shan, promise I'll get back soon!

-Allen

Shannon's boyfriend perhaps? More than likely, he didn't feel like he should be delving into people's personal lives but then again he was supposed to already been fully aware of these things. He turned towards the door that directed to the restroom, flipping on the light he sighed, in actual amusement. The bathroom was as obsessively designed as the rest of the room, he was going to take a wild guess that she helped with the interior design of the restaurant. Bath salts and different sorts of fancy titles things sat out in rows, anything used was probably tucked away in the cupboards so not to mess with the style she'd made.

The bathtub was set out of the ground making it a deeper style, he couldn't recall the name, perhaps a claw something, but it had a specific name to it. He pushed the curtains out of the way so to examine the turns and after a minute he was able to figure out what he was meant to do. Letting the water run over his hand he found a good temperature, a little past warm so when the water would be left to sit it could cool down to just right. Henry sat on the curved edge of the bathtub, watching the clear liquid crash down until it began to reach a certain height. Viewing this was a mindless task that required no attention span from him, it allowed him to let his mind slip into nothingness for the time being, just go into a state where he didn't have to consider, worry, or fear for anything.

He was ripped from this state as the lights above him suddenly began to flicker, sending short spurts of darkness. He looked up until it halted in the strobe form; the incident only lasted a few seconds to his relief. He looked back towards the water, gasping he saw it was ready to overflow if he didn't take care of it soon enough. He clumsily reached for the two turns quickly turning the water completely off. He sighed in relief, closing his eyes to block out light for a quick relaxing time.

He opened them again and differing coloring entered his view sending them dramatically wide, a man looking past his forties stood behind him, his reflection belaying graying skin, before Henry could pick up any further details the man bound forward arms stretched out shoving him down violently. Without anything to support him he fell back, landing into the water below.

His heart could have stopped right then if will power didn't keep him alive. Somewhere in his mind where logic lived he expected to fall into warm water, even thought of his head smacking into the other side of the tub, but no. He landed into freezing cold depths, his whole body surrounded, sinking deep in without any attempting to do anything. Instincts kicked in for him, he threw his arms forward swimming for the surface to acquire air to accommodate that it was necessary for his lungs.

He gasped out, water flicking out of his hair when he found air again; he could see a metal ledge past his wet hair, grasping it with his left hand he boosted himself onto the platform, pulling himself on and scooting away from the edge kneeling down. He coughed out any water trying to reside within his lungs, hunching over for a moment.

He rose his head back up, eyes wandering the room he'd been brought into. The walls were a decrepit blackening gray, made specifically of metal, it continued underneath the water and to his disgust, the walling below was coated with colored slims of greens and red hues. His examinations ended with the sounds of heeled shoes clunking in the area behind him, he recognized the slow stride and for a time, everything was silent, "Why don't you just finish it?" Henry asked it came to his mind; it was the first thing that left his lips. No answer was made, only the sound of the steps turning and leaving. So he sat alone, soaked from head to toe in the dank metal room.

He stood up, holding his arms and looking over his shoulder, a door stood at the other end, waiting to be opened. That was his direction, but still, it reminded him strangely of the first time all of this began, when he'd fallowed the woman Cynthia into the subway during the downpour. This was now, and that was then, but days had begun to simply blur together since then. He took the handle but was stopped, the silence was interrupted… He could hear collective voices erupt from the next room, children and a few adults from the tone…

What the hell…

He felt he had no other choice, so he did as his only option revealed: open the door. He found himself absolutely correct as the metal barrier pushed open. It was a cafeteria of sorts, children sat at rows of tables speaking among one another, adults stood watching, observing it seemed.

Their dress consisted of white robes, hoods left off while the children wore white shirts and light colored pajama bottoms. It looked like prisoner wear… Still, as he walked down the corridor no one paid him any notice, was he able to be seen at all? It wasn't all that unbelievable in this place, he could be like a ghost here, and only seeing what is needed to be seen.

The next doorway was his objective, even as he was invisible to their eyes he moved carefully, slowly, trying to avoid anyone and all inanimate objects. Halfway across the room and feeling almost safe it was momentarily ripped from him, he heard a clatter of glassware behind him followed by an ominous silence; maybe he wasn't as unnoticeable as he thought. Taking a slow step around he faced what had made the sound, but saw no eyes on him.

On the table behind him a glass of orange juice had spilt over, the bright colored drink dripped from the table onto to the seat, but no one made a move to correct the mess, only stared wide eyed at it. One robed young woman, seeming only in her twenties, took an angry step forward, "Walter Sullivan!" They called at the small blonde boy in an enraged voice.

No…Wait did she just say…Walter Sullivan?

The child… Bright eyed and innocent snapped his head up, terrified as the adult marched around the table towards him, "I…I…"

A girl next to him looking a few years older, intense red hair tied into braids, freckles and green eyes completing the look, sat up, "No, wait! It was me, I knocked it over!" She cried out in defense of the younger.

The woman glared at her, she snatched one of the braids with a hand pulling on her hair, Henry's eyes widened as the girl cried out with the tight hold, "How dare you question my sight Anne!"

"I-I'm sorry!" She tried.

"Let go!" Henry yelled, losing all sense at that time, he tried to claw at the woman's wrist to release the girl his hand went through the image, a hologram effect, "What the…" It was pointless, whatever this was, he wasn't part of it, he could only watch the girl whimper as her hair was yanked at.

"Hey," A call came from the other side of the room, a laid back but insistent voice from a male, a boy closer to the boy they'd called Walter stood from his seat.

"John," The woman said annoyed with the interruption, "What do you need this time?"

He put his hands up, "Hey, if anyone's gonna get punished for a glass of orange juice gettin' spilt, I'll take the fall."

He spoke as if past his age, an arrogant tone in his voice made the woman release the girl, dropping her back into her seat, she whimpered, hand touching the pained area on her skull, the boy next to her glanced for a moment but looked back to John, the woman pointed at him, speaking in a sharp whisper. Henry stepped towards her, when he neared he could hear what the woman was saying, "…For the last time, you will be sent back to your cell, and Jimmy will come to see you later…."

John smiled big, putting his arms out, "Fine," He said but leaned forward, smirking, "What can you people do other then scare us?" The two looked eye to eye for a moment, but John's smirk became a friendly smile, he stood on his tippy toes waving at the table where the incident originally took place, "See ya Anne, Walter!" He waved his arms as two of the cloaked figures led him out, his food unfinished. The little boy stared out at the door, frowning in concern.

"That was the last time I saw him." He heard from behind, Henry quickly swung around backing away, recognizing the vile voice that haunted him, the Walter he knew all too well stood across from him, staring down at the table where the boy that shared his name sat, the boy looked away from the door and back to his food as the red haired girl gave an assurance that the other male was going to be okay.

"He can take care of himself." Another child whispered from across.

"He always does," She smiled in agreement, picking at her food.

Henry grit his teeth looking back towards Walter, he stepped forward while the man was momentarily distracted, swinging his fist into the man's jaw, knowing none of the children could witness the violence taking place, he didn't give the psycho time to pull any fast moves on him like he'd done repeatedly. No, Henry wasn't going to make himself into a victim; he was one as long as he allowed himself to be.

He grasped the cloth of Walter's coat smashing him into one of the graying walls, "What the hell is all of this?!" He yelled, demanding answers, any type of answer he could finally get, "What am I seeing?!"

Walter stared down at him with empty eyes, green orbs that could turn from dull to enraged daggers, belaying a monster, something that could easily bring harm and death to anything it decides, but he didn't think of that, only focused that they were calm and he was pissed off, Walter took his wrists, shoving him away, "Whatever I want you to…" He answered softly, the two remained quiet for a time, Henry glanced at his hands, empty; even so, he could easily have any weapon concealed in his coat, and Henry was ready if he did.

Walter however, did not seem content with the quiet, he put his arms out looking around the room, "This is the Water Prison," He said, them leaning against the wall Henry had previously tried to injure him with, "I spent most of my childhood here, being taught and…" He paused, only staring, "Learning…"

Henry backed up slightly, he had questions, Walter had answers, but like hell he was going to simply act like this was a Sunday morning with coffee, "That kid… You guys have the same name…"

He turned his head, looking at the boy, all the children were standing, picking up their trays, "Yes… For the most obvious answer…" Walter said, in a mutter, the child spoke to another boy, conversing quietly while they turned in the dishes, "We are the same person."

Henry's eyes widened for a moment, he looked down; so it was true. This whole manifestation was a symbol of Walter's memories, but what was the purpose of seeing any of this?

"Walter…" A man spoke, his dressing was more elaborate than any of the rest, his hand was set on the boy's shoulder, letting the rest of the children leave without him, when the last person left the man acted, his hand came up swiping across the younger's cheek, the smack echoed throughout the room, sending him to the floor. He closed his eyes in pain, putting a small hand over his cheek, Henry almost tried to act again but the realization kicked in again, there was nothing he could do, more or less… He looked at Walter, his younger self had landed near his feat but it had no effect on his calm demeanor… This was all a collection of a memory, but…This boy was to grow up to be this serial killer.

The elder man stepped towards the younger Walter, whom was still sitting on the ground, cowering before the male's presence, "Do not forget your place in all of this Walter, if you keep causing trouble you will spend another week in this tower… Is that what you want? Do you want your friends to suffer as well?"

The boy looked down towards his shoes, still not daring to rise, "No…" He said quietly.

His glare softened to a sick smile, "Good, remember, the Holy Mother loves all of her chosen children."

He actually smiled as well, "She guides us." He responded.

"Good," He said, and pointed towards the door, voice returning to a stern tone, "Now back to your room, I want you to keep reading the Twenty One Sacraments, do so until it is memorized, the Holy Mother will be pleased once you have."

The Twenty One… He almost found himself lost in this story playing out, before he recalled that he too was written into later pages of it, he absently touched his neck. Of course the bandage was gone, most likely slipped off when he fell into the water, the coincidence bothered him.

"Thank you." The boy said, bowing, even after the act of abuse he seemed to have to taken on a good mood after the discussion of the Holy Mother. He left but the man stayed, after standing there he stepped across the room, opening the door Henry had come out of, only slight cracking it open and slipping in.

"That was Jimmy Stone." Walter said, watching him as well, Henry glared at him, sick of these games.

"I don't care!" He fiercely cried out towards him, fists clenched, "If you need me for some…" He was ready to add stupid in with his angered statement but decided against it, "Some, ritual then why are you showing me all of these thing?! Why…" He couldn't stop himself, "Why the hell can't you just leave me alone?! I don't want to be any part of this!"

Walter listened to his rant, he let out an amused breath his thin calm expression twisting into a smile, he put his hands up shaking his head, "Henry, Henry…" He said, "Do you truly believe I _care _about what you want? You poor ignorant child."

He clenched his teeth, of course that was his response, "I am not an ignorant child…" Suddenly, as insane as it was, he too smiled, "I'm fully aware of something…" He tested it, he put his hand on the table wear a utensil, a knife, had been left, to his relief it actually lifted with his hand, Walter's smug grin left leaving a surprised look. Henry pointed the knife towards the marks left on his neck, the marks inflicted by the man across from him, he smiled a bit more, speaking softly, "You need these don't you? I don't know why really, but I've got a good feeling that you do…"

This is insane. This is insane. This is insane. This is insane. This is insane. This is insane. This is insane.

Within a few seconds that same statement passed through his head, but judging by Walter's reaction to it, he'd hit spot on, he pressed the sharp tip of the knife to his skin, "What if I crossed it out, Walter? What would happen? Would I ruin something…" This was going to hurt like mother hell, he pressed the knife further, letting it pierce enough to get through skin, "Or everything?"

He was grabbed swiftly by the arm that held the cutting knife, and it was jerked away, he himself was thrown painfully against the table's seats landing on the ground, after wincing in pain he looked up; Walter was above him, the knife in his hand lifted up in the air, ready to stab downward, it would be a lethal wound from the much speed it would gain from that height, he had grasped the front of Henry's shirt, Henry remained calm, staring the aggressive appearance Walter had taken at this time.

He was breathing in short heavy intakes, although his violence shown, Henry could finally see, he could truthfully saw, he wasn't going to do it… He couldn't… Not yet. Henry reached his hands up, taking Walter's wrist holding his shirt into both hands; Walter jumped slightly, so he wasn't expecting this. Scare tactics, that was all he'd used up to now, and Henry got it, he had time. He shook his head, "You can't do it can you?"

Walter was only kneeling over his legs, so he easily rose up, removing the aggressive hand just as the opposite had done earlier, now at Walter's eye level he looked back, for once he wasn't afraid, "No… Not quite yet…" Henry muttered, the knife dropped from Walter's hand, Henry smiled, he stood picking up the knife and moving towards the door, he looked over his shoulder, "You're not very good at this game."

He opened the door, exiting.

Walter's hand dropped to the ground, hair fallen into his face as he stayed at his position on the ground. "I should have seen this much coming earlier…" He muttered to himself, "Yes…He's always been a clever one… He would figure it out…" He took the tables edge, "That's why you're the Receiver of Wisdom…" A chuckle emitted from his throat, much to high for his regular laugh, in this place, at this time, he let it happen, the insanity that claimed his mind, he kept it back, trying to remain clouded, allowing only logic to be his crutch for it, but now, he let all that drop. Reaching in the coat pocket he produced a gun, laughing loudly even as he was alone in the room, head angled towards the ceiling, "I will not let you get the best of me…" He said to the emptiness, smirking.

****

The rest of the prison was just as disgusting as the room he'd first been taken to; water dripped from the ceiling, soaking the metal floors and walls, there was absolutely no chance of his clothes becoming dry any time soon. He was walking upstairs, preferring it over the ladders that only looked like it would bring the unlucky chance of his falling. He couldn't figure out how he was going to get out the mess this time… The first he escaped after Walter informed of his name, the second time he was attacked by the black hairs that cut into his skin. So what would happen this time, he sighed, none of it related to each other so he… Decided he'd just wing it, walk and find anything that needed his doing and get the hell out of here. He was just thankful he had shoes.

At the top of the stairs was a door, red like the paint of the grating. The next room was acquired two more doors, on the other end of the room was that strange symbol that had appeared twice in the subway. Great… The symbol never meant anything well… He didn't have the time to be examining it this time though. He led himself through the door on the left, through it he was led into another metal room; the hallway took a round shape with doors in the middle; a square opening held in the upper part of the doors with small bars over it, each lit up. Curiously he leaned over to slightly see in, one of the children from the cafeteria sat at a table with a book open, reading carefully. His eyes narrowed, he walked to the next, the next, and… They were kids, little kids and… They were jail cells, all of them. This dank, terrible place, it wasn't meant for children…

He leaned against a wall, feeling sick; he held his arm over his stomach, because this happened to them, people who could still be alive, walking the world with these memories, that there was nothing he could do because this was only a recollection of a mad man. What the hell was he… Supposed to feel bad for Sullivan? Because he suffered this fate? No, he shook his head, pity would bring weakness. Weakness would bring his demise.

Behind him he heard a door creak open, before he could truly turn to look over his shoulder, expecting another portion of the strand of memories t pass by, but a clicking noise fallowed by a loud boom interrupted all train of thought, there was no time to hear the piece colliding through the air, the speed it was given making perfect direction towards him. He felt the vulnerable skin and flesh his side rip open, tearing apart with blood splattering from his body to the ground below.

He felt himself dropping, three more clicks sounded, he heard them, was conscious of the flesh being torn apart by the hits being made but pain sensors gave way to complete numbness. He watched as he met with the ground, lying there, his head angled so he was able to stare upon the bleak wall across from him, his hand had fallen partly into his view, blood running off of the water slick skin. Clear liquid below him took on the crimson colors that seeped from his wounds, thinning it into streaks across wet metal flooring. His view became interrupted, shoes stepping up, but he had no strength to try and see the whole person, just watched his view blur into darkness.

It felt as if only seconds had passed on, reminiscent of a quick sleep without a dream to be seen. He groaned, awakening only through the sting of pain coursing through his skin. He let in a deep breath; it was difficult to get any air through his lungs, and god… His head hurt like hell… He lifted his arm, applying pressure to try and relieve any of the pain, but the moment he moved he felt the muscles in his chest react with stabbing hurt coursing through from certain points. His eyes fled open during this, only to meet with a blinding light from a hanging light from above. He could only turn his head to avoid staring into it.

Taking an intake of air through his nose, he lifted his head looking towards the beginning of the pain. His shirt and jacket had been removed, all replaced by gauze that covered different areas of where… That was when he recalled it; he'd been shot; over and over, now he was patched up neatly, as if a professional had found him. Laying his head down once again he began to examine the room; regrettably he viewed the yellowed walls of one of the prison cells that the children were put in. The door was shut of course, at the side of the room he could see a concrete table made of the same texture the rest of the room was holding his shirt and jacket, on the back wall, held high was a circular metal piece dipped into the wall, he couldn't be sure what it was used for however…

A noise sounded from behind it, this signaled that there was a room behind then… Yes, there was glass on it; it was a peephole of sorts. There was a scraping sound against the flooring, then a click, he recognized the sound somehow, it was a chair being moved fallowing by the person sitting down. It was too easy to recognize the disembodied figure.

"You bastard…" Henry said in a voice, his voice strained from the increased pressure on his chest from the gauze, "You shot me damn it…"

"Yes," He agreed, his voice showing the simplicity he found over the situation.

"God damn you…" He muttered between his teeth, he didn't feel like lying there, like a prisoner meant only for instruction, no, he was not a prisoner… Despite the aching, he lifted himself up on one elbow, the bend of his abdomen making placed bullet wounds throb pain, -he swore one had reopened bleeding into the covers- with a slight push he was able to get his legs off the side of the bed, straightening his posture to apply the proper amount of pressure to keep himself in okay condition, although he could still feel the injuries hurt for after effects.

He felt his shoes tap the floor, giving him the signal he was able to stand, it caused him to lean forward slightly but he dutifully ignored any reactions from the injuries, standing he walked with a careful stride over to the table holding the rest of his clothing. Carefully, he brought the tee-shirt over his head slipping it back on; the jacket was a much easier endeavor, only needing to bring it towards his back and his arms through. He glared towards the peephole in the wall, he could not see the other man from this point but he didn't look forward to any second meeting.

Sighing he could see that the man wasn't chancing let him out just yet, feeling like a child he sat down against the wall bringing his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them, glaring at the opposing wall, "How long do you plan to keep me in here Sullivan?"

There was a pause in any speech, but the chair sounded of him moving slightly, "I still question why you refuse to accept your memories…"

He shook his head sighing, "Well that is the repeated question of the day now isn't it? Because," His glare led up to where he knew Walter could see him, "You need them."

The light began to flicker above him; he glanced upwards towards it, usually the lights being in such ways never meant well for him. He stood up glancing towards the glassed round window high on the wall, noise was absent from there... He backed up, waiting for the lights to return to normal, to his relief with one last flicker; they did allowing the room to be lit as normally as those sorts of hanging lamps could make it. He heard a creaking noise sound behind him, he looked towards it; the door that had held closed; trapping him inside finally became accessible. He cautiously stepped out, looking from each side to check his safety. Everything seemed the same but... Within the time he'd been unconscious and kept inside the prison room things seemed to had become more dank, darker even.

He could hear muttering voices, a male and a female, from afar. Could he had been sent into one of the memories of this place again? He followed the sounds with slow steps until two people came into sight. He couldn't describe the shock he felt at first... His second reaction was a reminder, that he should run at the sight but... Once again he saw someone who matched his looks as he did when he'd been found in his room and for a moment could have sworn it was his matching image but after a moment realized it couldn't be. A woman stood with him, brunette hair thin and hanging to her shoulders, a shining purple dress that stood out all too much in this place with matching purple heels that could easily cause her to slip on these wet floors, her left ankle had bandages and from what he could see past the other male she had her arm in a caste and a weapon in the right.

He edged towards them, the girl leaned against the wall seeming to be in a panic while his match spoke comforting words to her, doing the same. Neither of them took notice of his appearence... Meaning this was most likely a memory as well, he realized.

He caught the end of his matches statement, a name, "...Eileen..."

Henry's eyes widned, it was the same name as in the hospital, the girl had been transported to the hospital with injuries from an attack and died there from them a while after the intial incident. It had to be a coincidance... Was she... The woman shook her head, from this view he could see her left eye was covered by a cloth bandage. She looked down, near their feat was a face down creature looking form, its main body consisted of a gray tinge, what looked like a cover really, continuing down were scrawny light gray arms ending in overly sized lethal looking hands. She cringed, leaning forward and burrying her face in his chest, "Henry I... I don't know how long I can do this it... It looks like kids they... And that man out there..." Tears streamed down her face, "He's the one who attacked me before..."

She said the same name as his to the brunette in this memory, did that mean... Yes, it was true. He'd been here before with this woman.

"I know Eileen..." He held her carefully, hands barley even nearing her as if he would break her. Henry, standing here watching what seemed to be what happened before he'd rid himself of his own memories, felt as though he shouldn't be there, watching this occur. The one held in the memory pulled her back with a thin smile, "Do you want to wait for me somewhere? I can take care of everything to get us out of here,"

She stared at him, eyebrows dipped in worry, "Henry I..." He shook his head, noticing that she was going to argue over his safety,

"Only if you're comfortable being alone."

She waited, considering but eventually closed the one eye that was visible, "Okay..." He led her towards one of the rooms, "Be careful..."

"I will." He shut the prison door behind her, he held onto the handle, his expression faded into a frown... Lonely, depressed, but turned and headed down the hall. The image started to fade, his eyes widened as he watched his own mirror self dissipate into the color of the prisons background. Panic relished, before he could think it over he hurried towards the door he'd left the woman Eileen, hurriedly opening the door and looking inside... Nothing... She'd also disappeared with him... He stood there, staring inside.

Why did he feel so god damn sad?

He heard something behind him- the click of a gun! Responding immediately to the dreaded sound, but when he'd faced away from the door he felt shivering winds pass by causing him to look more quickly… He'd been changed from the area he was in previously. Now he stood on an outside metallic ledge, angling his head upwards he could see that this was most likely the outside of the prison. Further down were ladders leading up the tall place. It was huger than he could imagine.

He heard the shot of the gun forcing his attention, he felt fear arise further; Walter stood away from him, focused on the memory version of him. They stood across from each other; Walter held two guns, one on either side of him. The opposite breathed heavily, blood held thick to his shirt; his state showed he'd been recently attacked…

So this was what it was like, what he'd gone through.

Destroyed, afraid, completely hurt and bleeding, but still determined, still keeping his ground with the terrifying male.

A gun held in his hand, pointed at Walter, "You… Why the hell are you doing this to us!" He questioned, Henry neared slightly as he did inside, so at this point he still had no clue who the man in the blue coat was… He looked towards Walter, he gave the other a calm stare, not seeming to actually regard him as anything however, he continued however, "You-You said Eileen gave that doll to you… She did something nice for you and… And that's what she gets?!" He walked further in quick steps; he pressed the muzzle of the gun to Walter's chin, the blond still only watching, not speaking nor reacting, "I'll kill you for what you did to her…"

Walter took a breath from his nose, closing his eyes for a moment, but when the light green eyes reopened a smirk came with it, "Will you?"

The next seconds seemed to go by all too fast. Walter had grabbed his other selves arm, forcing it in a painful direction with a crack, the caused him to pull the trigger. Pain. Again.

Neither of them could see him but he could.

Neither of them realized that the gun had hit a target. But he did.

He looked down, rising a hand, blood ran from a spot in his chest… Perhaps an… Important organ… The bullet had been released from his own gun… He began to stumble, unable to feel his body have any control any longer… Before he could realize, he tipped off the side of the tower, falling for depths until he hit freezing cold waters, icy like…

****

Cold swiftly became heated, a surface beneath him allowing him to rise quickly out of it. He was soaked from head to toe, and pain was throbbing in different points of his chest. He took in sweet air into his lungs, blinking his eyes open until he could see again.

The bathroom, it was the bathroom.

From the hallway he heard Damien's familiar voice calling cheerily, "Henry, déjeuner!" He felt frozen in place, he saw the black haired man walk in ruffling his strands of hair, "Shannon cuisiner au pif…"

He stared for a moment before a small smile came onto his face, "Ah," He made a sound like it was a puppy, just cute, kneeling before the bathtub, "Seems you fell, mignon."

As usual his switching from French to English persisted. Henry couldn't focus for a moment, he stared back expression in dread, and Damien seemed to catch this, "Henry…" He questioned.

He suddenly felt the need to get away from the water, to check his chest of why he was in sudden pain. No… It couldn't have been leftover from… He struggled in a panic to get out of the water, even as he splashed water onto the floors and Damien quickly tried to get his attention again. He quickly pulled the jacket open and unbuttoned the shirt, he could feel the pain there; they were still…

He felt his wrists snatched, forced away, Damien pulled him around towards his direction, a serious expression on his face he leaned over, "Henry," He said sternly, "What is going on?" His eyes angled down at where Henry was attempting something, his eyes changed; brows narrowing. Carefully, he brushed his hand towards the material lay.

He gasped, one hand releasing Henry's shoulder to cover his mouth, "No way…" He said in one breath, he led Henry to a chair in Shannon's room across from her bed; he reached up turning on the light in the room to have better sight. Henry didn't attempt to stop him, feeling blank at the time; everything that had happened sent him into a temporal range of nothingness.

Damien finished unbuttoning the shirt, seeing if what he saw was correct. To his dismay he was… Henry's chest held wounds in round shapes seeming fresh, at the same time he felt distant relief, they didn't look self inflicted, nothing in there could cause such deep marks be caused in such a way.

He looked up at Henry, whom looked towards his own lap, soaked hair falling in his eyes, he knelt up further, pale hands resting on the sides of Henry's face to try and coax a reaction, "Hey, Henry…" He said, practically in a whisper, trying to remain calm and controlled, "These…What happened…"

He watched Henry's face change slightly, pain forming in the green eyes.

He couldn't tell Damien, it was all too insane, all too unbelievable, he hunched over more, shaking his head; he felt Damien bring him down slightly, into a light embrace, "Please?" Damien asked in a muffled voice. He brought his hands up, taking the material of the back of Damien's jacket into his hands, just needing someone there for him and best he could tried to explain what occurred, what had been happening, but he tried to make it sound like dreams, like he'd been affected by them.

"This has happened before?" Damien asked softly, worry slipped into his voice.

Before he could speak in response Shannon entered, "Hey it doesn't take this long to get…Someone…" Her voice trailed off as she entered the room, standing still a moment. She sighed, stepping forward and with one swift whip smacked Damien over the head, not so hard but enough to get the point across, "Geeze! Never thought you'd try to take advantage of him in my room…" She said crossing her arms glaring off in another direction, but when he spoke her name again, voice low and serious she looked back.

He frowned, turned towards her slightly on the ground but one hand still lightly holding Henry's cheek in comfort, "This is serious."

Her arms dropped to her sides…

"What…"

****

**I hadn't realized till this chapter what a PANSY I've had Henry be for the last few chapters, but I guess losing your memories than being attacked by a psycho in a blue coat who doesn't seem to understand what 'Personal space' is, will kind of hinder the awesome fighter in a person. Now, Henry's not going to be a wimp!**


	6. Changed

**Originally Eileen wasn't even supposed to show up till the end and even then her presence was very little and the Haunting!Henry didn't even have a place in the story. I'm extremely glad I've made them into a little team and they have reoccurring appearances and admittedly... Eileen's fun to write~! I'd written little things from her before but never typed them, she is sort of a fun character, a strong one at that. **

**I have to say though, Haunting!Henry is a hard character to write only for the purpose that describing words are not easy to come by. I can't call him Henry because that would be plain confusing, so I have to go for 'copy' or 'double' or 'doppleganger' and that's pretty much all I have for him.**

**I am a little disappointed that I get one review from one reader (Thank you very much ****Mantineus and Hilarious-Mayhem****) and I see stories that have copied plots from my stories(Yes, I have noticed) and they have tons of reviews for the purpose of plenty of sexual content. Sorry if I like building up plot rather than satisfying peoples hormones. Sorry if I'm tiffed. **

**I also hope everyone is okay with Damien and Shannon, I hope the OC's aren't discouraging people but I truly love them.**

* * *

Damien did his best to recap the previous events, to describe to Shannon all that Henry had detailed to him the minutes before. She had taken a seat on the bed bench her eyes fixed down at the floor, eyebrows creased in thought. She crossed her arms, bringing them close to her abdomen unconsciously. Her skin had begun to bring up the ill pale tinge that had been expected during Damien's pauses to allow her moments to take a gulp in, closing her eyes and nodding as permission to proceed. As the story finished Shannon gnawed nervously on her bottom lip, eyes glancing from one side to another. The story had given the air an uncomfortable air, she seemed to be having difficulty truly understanding this.

She didn't respond for a long while, she made a small sound of consideration and perhaps shock, after a bit she took in a long intake of breath, "I...I took a psychology course in college... During it, we studied serial killer psychology..." She stood up and began pacing back and forth, continuing the topic, though Henry and Damien weren't too sure of where she was going with it, "There was one man, who would let a few of his victims free...he had worked for a television company, so...he worked with subliminal messaging." She brought up her hand, pointing as if she'd figured something out, "He would leave those few with images in their subconscious so when something that was similar that occurred it would set it off so they would relive what happened, over and over..."

Her eyes landed on the two, Henry stared towards the floor, considering all she said, "Just like... A nightmare..." He muttered mostly to himself.

"But," Damien interjected, "What about the injuries?"

Shannon glanced down, but squeezed her eyes tightly shut, unable to look upon the inflicted wounds, "The human body is a strange thing, people have been known to have the ability to set themselves on fire just by unconsciously raising their temperatures while their sleeping. He may have hoped that by setting these subliminal messages in your mind that..." She sighed, clenching her teeth, trying to work up the courage to speak, "That your body would just naturally injure itself..."

That's right... He was never left completely bleeding or in pieces. The wire marks remained like scars, the bullet wounds were like red burns... His eyes widened slightly, did he finally have a reasonable explanation to this all, that reality did actually count into the crazed dream state that had begun to make him feel like he'd been on the verge of insanity since the day he was diagnosed with amnesia.

"Reasonable..." Damien muttered, nodding, "It is reasonable..."

Henry slowly to a breath in through his nose, lids shutting over bright green eyes, "But that doesn't fix anything..." He leaned forward, hands linking in front of him in a gesture of stress, "Even if that is what it is, even if... Even if I'm not crazy," He looked up, desperation showing within his expression, "That doesn't mean that it's just going to stop..."

****

Room 302 stood in the darkness of the night as the sun set on the city tinging the many rooms in dark blues and black without the support of proper lighting. Rooms in South Ashfield Heights held the similar appearance in many different places. Room 303 and 207 held this descriptions, their original occupants reported dead, murdered to be precise, this news slowly made its way to other members of the apartments, people began becoming worried, uncomfortable with their living quarters with two murders taking place so near one another. After the discovery of Henry Townshend, beaten and battered, signs of being held hostage many occupants changed their minds about living at the South Ashfield Heights, most whom were parents, the lives of their children being more importance to them then staying there.

Although, Room 302 did not stay empty aside the furniture within it.

Beyond the eyes of mortal sight a man stood at the window, hazy green eyes stared intently into the outside world, his blond strands of hair that reached down to his shoulders holding the cloth of a blue coat, stained deeply with blood. Blood of many lives, the blood even of a woman who sat on the couch next to the copy of a being that was meant to be killed days ago.

He took in a deep breath, not bothering to look to the two, "They're trying to convince him otherwise like..." He snickered bitterly, shaking his head, "It's all a dream... I need to take care of them..."

Both Eileen's and the double's head shot up, gaping at him in horror, Eileen stood up quickly her pace quick and shoes thumping loudly against the floor as she made her way across the room with a glare etched across her stained face, she pointed towards him accusing, ironically it represented a similar notion to a mother scolding her child, "You cannot do this... Don't just cause him pain, just because you can!" She looked from side to side, resisting tears that she had wanted to cry since she'd awoken to death, "Don't leave him along in the world as if..." She began to stutter in her speech, the double stood off to the side, wanting to give her comfort but her words kept him back.

Her voice rose again, anger returning, "As if your some kind of savior!"

He'd kept his eyes out the window, expression never changing even when he began to turn towards her. At the sight of this she felt an amount of rage build up, she swung her arm up and with a strong swing slapped him across the face. Dammit she wished she had the chain that Henry had discovered for her back when... When...

In reaction to the sudden hit he'd turned his head, dark blond strands sticking to his skin, even when he turned back his empty expression did not waver. It annoyed the hell out of her, and the thought of what he was planning to do, what he'd done, it was all hitting her at the same time. Even the incident when she was meant to die, she'd been pumbled to the ground, it was...Was so painful.

And God dammit this bastard needed more than a slap to know what he'd done to her.

She clenched her fist, she'd never been an experienced fighter, ever, even in this world she barley knew what to do when Henry handed her a weapon and monsters came at them. Normally he'd keep her behind him and attempt to fight them himself, but she'd step in the moment he got hit.

She remembered him laughing, _"We make a great tag team."_

Eileen allowed all this to flood back, to empower her when she bent her wrist -recalling the self defense lessons her father gave her when she was a little girl- and with a swing forward smashed her fist into the same part that she'd slapped him. Even then, she felt herself break, "Dammit!" She cried out, hitting someone didn't her make her feel any better! Even if it was the bastard who murdered her. She put her face into her hands, weeping.

She felt the copy of Henry's cold hands come to her shoulders, turning her towards him, she willingly rested her forehead against his blooded chest, feeling that safety that she had longed to experience once again.

Walter brought his hands over the pained area that she'd taken two hits on. Straightening his posture, his cold eyes set on the two, "I know of your plans already Ms. Galvin, you want to stop me from killing Henry. You want to be his savior, am I correct." Eileen didn't move, she stayed in protective arms, not wanting to turn around to face him again, "You want none of this to succeed." He shook his head, "You wont stop me, neither of you will. Henry will return, he will die as the last Sacrament, and will purify Mother." He stared upon them for a moment, but turned on his heal walking towards the door.

****

Henry sat up in his bed, staring off distantly his arms hugging his knees with the sheet draped over them. He sighed deeply, with a slight annoyed tinge to it. He rubbed the back of his neck in a stressed manner. He was afraid to even sleep as the incidents, whatever they may be, might occur again. He was ready to face anything now, truthfully, but he didn't want to have to. It was better to avoid it all together. Obviously his heavy mind was not going to award him any rest even as the day had wore awkwardly on.

He finally kicked off the sheets, letting the fold to the side as he stood up on the bed, walking across it and stepping to the ground. Maybe he could grab a glass of water or something he considered as he stepped down the stairway leading down into the living room and kitchenette.

Entering inside the cooking space he was shocked for a moment to see a familiar silhouette standing at the window above the sink. Damien turned towards him, glasses missing momentarily, until he laughed lightly, "Ah, Henry..." He placed the spectacles back on the bridge of his nose pushing the thin ends through his hair to rest on the tops of his ears to hold them in place, "Didn't know you'd be up this late also..."

"Ya...Today's been..." He began but couldn't quite place words in it at first, he shook his head and finished the statement, "Insane..."

"I wouldn't exactly mark it as insane moreover, stressful and long." Damien spoke with a chuckle as Henry stepped across the kitchen to stand next to him.

"Sounds like my week..." Henry muttered towards the ground, shuffling his feet uncomfortably. They stood in silence for a long while, neither bothering to attempt to turn on the light.

"I know...This must all be really hard for you. Harder then I can ever imagine, but I've gotta tell you..." Damien shook his head, "The hardest thing for me, is knowing I can't do anything to help you." Henry looked up, surprised by the statement, but the hit of the strong words slowly brought him into a state of slight depression, but Damien went on, his eyebrows dipped in thought, "I don't know why but Shannon's thing about it all being subliminal messaging I just..." He finally turned to Henry, "It doesn't sound right, something in me tells me it's something else..."

Henry glanced back at him, Damien was awaiting an answer, so he spoke his feelings on it as well, "At first it felt like I finally had some answers. Not that I truly was being taken to these nightmare places by," He leaned forward, hands grasping the edge of the counter, and laughed without any true feeling in it, "By a _dead_ serial killer..."

"That's...That's new..." Damien said, confusion obvious in his tone and expression.

Henry let out the same empty laugh, he walked across the kitchen again, feeling the need to pace, "Didn't I mention it earlier?" When Damien shook his head 'no', he decided to explain it, "Remember when I first asked you about Walter Sullivan?"

"Ya...You had looked him up on the computer and then asked if we were sure he was dead..."

He nodded as Damien relayed what occurred only a day back, "The man who comes after me claims to be Walter Sullivan, and before Shannon said anything..." He looked up towards the ceiling, once again leaning on the counter at that end, "I really began to believe him... Hell, what am I saying, I believed everything. It all seemed to weird, but so real, the pain all the words, whatever he needed me for... I believed it all, and... Guess I still sort of do."

Damien stepped forward, "Henry, I know it doesn't help at all to your situation but I'm believing that. When we were in high school there was something different about you, not just your personality, but it always seemed like there was a shadow following behind you that wasn't your own... You were definitely different from everyone else."

His eyes didn't leave the spot that he angled his head towards the ceiling for, "Great so... This might have been happening since I was a kid..."

"Didn't mean to bring a dark cloud on anything..." Damien responded with a small smile.

He shook his head at it, but moved away from the counter again, with a frown on his face, he rubbed the side of his neck where a bandage was supposed to cover the _21/21,_ but he hadn't bothered to do so this night so the marks were completely exposed, "For some reason... I have a feeling these have a part in it..." His hand across the smooth surface of the counter, landing on the handle of a knife that had been left on the counter, he slipped his fingers underneath it, finally taking a good grip on it, -just like in the prison- his voice became a thin considering mutter, "Maybe if I can just get rid of them..."

He lifted the knife, pointing the tip towards the scars residing on his neck, shutting his eyes quickly, he heard Damien yell his name and within that his hand was grasped and shoved down to the counter with a slam, although the hurt resided Damiens hand resided on his.

He opened his eyes again, looking down, Damien stood in front of him, breathing hitched as he restrained Henry from any attempts of harm upon himself, his other hand holding the opposite end of the counter, preventing Henry from moving.

Finally he looked up, glasses having slipped to the dip of his nose, an ever so slight glare in his eyes, "Don't you dare... Even _try_ anything like that..." Even as he had moved at him he suddenly retreated, grabbing the material of his shirt where his heart rested, squeezing his eyes shut and teeth gritting together, he lent against the wall, obviously in pain.

"Damien!" He cried out, dropping the knife and hurrying to his side, he rested his hands on Damiens shoulders, "Are you all right?"

He let out a couple of hitched breaths, leaning his head on the wall, trying to adjust himself back into a proper stance, "No it's... Nothing I just... My heart troubles have been... Acting up a little lately..."

Henry thought it over for a few seconds, before looking back to Damien, "You said it was nothing to worry about..."

Damien grinned, pushing his glasses back up and straightening himself, standing perfectly once again, but pale skin showing signs of unnatural amounts of sweating, his height forced Henry to let go of his shoulders, "It is nothing to worry over... I'm gong to the doctors in a couple of days..." His frown returned however, "Please just... Promise me you wont try anything like that again. If Shannon knew you were trying to cut yourself open just to mess up a couple of scars she'd have a heart attack..." His words slowed at the end, scratching the back of his head he laughed nervously, "Wrong choice of words?"

"Wrong choice," Henry agreed, nodding.

Damiens facial features changed however as he canted his head to look at them, nearing Henry he spoke in a low voice, "I've never actually seen them before..." Reaching forward tentatively he ran his fingers over the marks but retreated immediately, eyes wide open, "They...They don't even feel like they're there at all!" He took Henry's jaw, turning his face so he could have a better view of them, "I... I'm no medical professional, but this doesn't look normal at all..."

This was interrupted however, a crashing noise then the sound of a door slamming open from upstairs. "Shannon..." They both breathlessly stated at the same time, she was up there alone, they didn't waste a second rushing to the stairs seeing her looking from side to side in a panic in the hall at the top.

She saw them, and when they reached the hall she nervously backed up, crossing her arms behind her back, smiling what seemed to be absolutely fake.

"Hey," Damien was the first to reach her, he took her arms, looking at her worried as he always did, "Something happen, are you okay?"

"Okay, ya, ya, I'm okay! Fine, just-just fine, I-uh..." Her stumbling over her sentence, words high in fake optimism showed all together, she was just the opposite of 'fine'. She removed from Damien's hands, raising only one hand from her back to put it up in a gesture, "Woo, you wouldn't...Wouldn't believe the nightmare I just had, sort of childish you know I always hated...Dolls."

Damien was giving her that look. The raised eye brow, turned head and slight raise underneath one eye of 'Have you lost it?', "Dolls?" He asked.

"Ya, ya like in the movie..." She nodded, attempting to look convincing, "Dolls."

Damien pointed at her, "When we were kids you had an entire collection of them that you adored-"

"Well now I hate them!" She said in a raised voice, almost angry but backed away again, calming, "Well I guess everyone's having trouble sleeping but... We should all get to bed, it was a long day..."

The other two have her a look of suspicion but to her thanks they agreed, Damien's room resided down the other side of the hall and Henry's in the middle as the guest room, he stopped at his doorway, "Er...Try to sleep well, don't have anymore nightmares..."

"I will!" Finally his door was shut behind him, she waited for all noise stopped, when it did, she fell back against the door behind her, but realized too late that it wasn't open so fell back to the ground, she groaned in pain laying there for a moment. After a while of laying there she rose off the ground, taking her hands away from her back after closing her door.

She frowned as she held the little thing in her hands, what had given her the idea of an excuse for what had occurred in her nightmare. A tiny doll of cloth, pale white skin with a smile, blue dress, and black hair...

It happened when She appeared...

****

She hated waking up in the middle of the night for no freaking reason. It was never an enjoyable experience knowing you had two days of freedom and you couldn't do it sleeping in. She groaned into her pillow, only to turn into her own naturally blond strands, strings of the straightened hair stuck to her lips causing her to take in a mouthful of her own hair when she breathed in.

She jolted up, coughing them out and pushing only to have saliva stuck hair against her skin, "Great..."

Her eyes caught something unfamiliar, she squinted her eyes as they adjusted to the dark she felt panic rush through her whole body. Someone stood in the corner of her room, concealed mostly by shadows. She responded as she should, ripping her nightstands drawer open pushing past all the junk inside, it was all purposely placed there to be a convincing cover. She wasn't as stupid as she made herself appear accidentally.

A gun hid underneath the useless collection she stood up on her bed, gun pointed at the person, whom had raised their hands and spoke, "Please, just calm down," They were female, but that mattered not, in whatever happened to Henry Damien mentioned a woman being there.

"Stay the hell away from me," She growled, attempting to keep any strength in her voice, trying to hide the shaking that it really encompassed.

They stepped forward, keeping her hands up, something was wrong, Shannon could see a pale skin tone not any darker tones but there was something about how the shadows hit her, in strips almost, something was wrong, "Please, I'm not trying to hurt you,"

"I'll scream," She rose her voice up a notch.

"No one will hear you..." She said quietly, her careful and slow steps didn't end.

"Is that a threat?!" Shannon cried out, readying the gun, she grit her teeth, terrified, but when they stepped before her bed her gun lowered slightly, eyes wide in horror. It couldn't be...

"We've met... My names Eileen..."

That pink and white striped shirt and green skirt, short brown hair similar length of her opposite color, but her skin... Black and dark reds tinged marking across each and every milky tinge of skin, barley any of the freckles on her face shown, but even in the dark her green eyes stood out...

Her gun dropped to her side, then slipped from her fingers clattering on the floor. With it, she dropped to her knees onto the bed, unable to hold herself up any longer. It was irrational to come to that conclusion so quickly but... Her voice, her looks, her clothing, all of it matched Eileen.

She didn't know the woman to well, she was Henry's next door neighbor whom he obviously had a crush on but was too shy and too low of confidence to admit it, although she would always deal him plenty of attention. Upon learning her last name was Galvin she had Damien were surprised, being his last name was the same. They had never met on another but held the same last name, the guess was they were distant cousins, not a rare thing in such a large world.

She and Mildred were at one time invited for coffee in her apartment to allow Damien and Scott to drag Henry out of his apartment for a 'Mans' day out' no matter how much the idea of allowing Damien and Scott to have control of his day terrified him.

Eileen was beautiful, smart, and extremely respectable she and Mildred to her joked that they would not leave Allen or Scott alone with her for fear that they're boyfriends would run off with her. It was the one time the three of them truly got the chance to speak with one another though.

After Henry had stopped showing up for work it was announced she had been transported to the hospital from an attack and a few days later, announced dead.

It had truthfully devastated Shannon to receive such news of the woman's death, she'd hoped to become better acquaintances with her... Now, Eileen Galvin stood at the edge of her bed, skin ruined with bloody marks. Seeing Shannon's reaction to this she stepped around the bed, sitting on the edge next to her.

Her blue eyes rushed open wider, falling back terrified, she put her hands over her eyes, "No! This is a dream! A dream! I have to wake up! I have to wake up..." She repeated the statement, pressing her hands further to her eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Eileen frowned in a heavyhearted manner, she leaned forward, taking hold of Shannons wrists, pulling the hands away from her lids, even when she did, Shannon's eyes were shut tight, denying her absolute presence, "Shannon... Shannon please, I need your help..." The woman was whimpering, "Shannon it's about Henry, his life is in danger..."

Her lids slightly opened over her eyes, but they opened completely, staring down. She took her wrists away, sitting up more, "This isn't a dream is it?" She asked quietly, messing with the edge of her white sleeping shorts. Eileen shook her head, "What...What happened to you Eileen?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you..." She answered with a thin smile.

Shannon sat up further, "Eileen, your sitting right in front of me! You died I... I remember when it happened, it did..."

"Yes, it did..." Eileen murmured in agreement.

"Then how are you here! If this isn't a dream then what's going on!" She questioned further, trying to make sense of this, but she'd always been a down to earth person, never really believe in anything and if this was true, if she had a dead woman that was completely solid, moving, and absolutely alive seeming then everything she knew was wrong...

"A lot of things happened between the days I was attacked to when I died..." She said, her voice had become strained in pain, "Look, what you do need to understand is I need your help..."

This took Shannon back, but still she needed sense, she shook that off and nodded, "Okay Eileen... What is it..."

Eileen turned from her place on the edge of the bed and knelt just as Shannon was, one of her hands was overturned on her thigh, something held within it. She lifted it, extending her hand towards Shannon. She blinked but looked into her palm, in it was a small cloth doll, she couldn't help but think it was kind of cute. What could this thing have to do with anything...

"Look, I know how weird this all sounds but the man who killed me is coming after Henry too..." She said, sadly receiving a shocked and terrified look from Shannon.

"He's still after Henry?!" She questioned, eyes shaking wanting to tear up again.

_'In more way then one...' _Eileen couldn't help but think bitterly, "Yes, this is all an extremely complicated matter, but Walter is going to try to use this to try to break all of Henry's tie to this world-"

"W-What?! This world, what are you talking about..." She tried but Eileen didn't answer, the doll was still in her hand, and somehow could do harm to Henry's welfare.

"I would do it myself but... He's the reason I'm here, I'm part of Walters world, so I can't get rid of it..." She bowed her head, after she did, she felt the pressure of the doll release from her hand, looking up she saw Shannon with a determined look as she stared at the doll.

"For you guys... No matter how hell'a insane all of this is, what do I have to do?" Her eyes set on Eileen, fierce fire within robins egg blue.

Eileen smiled in relief, she could count on the woman, "You need to take the doll far away from here, as far as you can get, and..." Her heart thumped as she looked towards the small toy, when she was young she took it EVERYWHERE it was her prized possession, but when she saw a sad man sitting all alone, she had remembered the rainy days when lightning and thunder sounded outside, she had the doll, she wasn't afraid or alone anymore, so she left her mom and gave it to him. Who knew a kind act would wind in her evident death as a motherly figure, Mother Reborn, _20/21..._

Henry had done his best to protect her, but he was too late...

She had to finish, no matter how it pained her to know it would be destroyed it was best, for Henry, "And burn it... I know, most things are warned against burning for this stuff... But that's how it's going to work..."

Shannon smiled sheepishly, "I don't know much about curses... So I wouldn't know anyways..."

She smiled, "Thank you Shannon," She hugged the woman, and after a surprised moment, Shannon returned the embrace, "I have to go..." She murmured, standing up and nodding to her. She walked towards the door.

Shannon was surprised, then shocked, "What?! Back where, back to Him?"

Eileen looked to her but didn't stop, "I have to."

"N-No, you can't!" She hoped off the bed, rushing for the door as Eileen disappeared into the shadows, she stumbled when running, never exactly a perfect walker, only at work was when she slipped into the symbol of trained princess. She crashed into the dresser, but rushed for the door even with the pain in her leg, throwing it open she rushed out, searching for Eileen, but catching no sight of her.

****

Tomorrow was going to be a busy day...

****

Henry yawned as he entered his darkened room, everything was happening at once, he had that to say. Shannon too, what was with that huge display about 'dolls'. According to Damien-Whom he noticed, was officially being called by two names by his two living partners- she loved dolls, so what was with the huge fit? It just made him think back to the Subway, where he saw the copy of himself in a bloody form and clothes that originally belonged to him.

Those were burned, now ash in the chimney.

He halted in his tracks however, something caught his ears... A sound, it was... Cracking? He looked to the vanity mirror that sat near the bathroom door. He walked close to it, indeed, the mirror was cracking slowly. That was strange, the slivering glass made a curve and to his horror, ended at the part of his neck where the markings resided.

He gasped backing away from the mirror, but did not expect in the least to hit something, it was too early and too soft to be a wall. It snapped him wide awake, he rushed forward swooping around to meet the person in the darkness he knew would be standing there.

Before any dialogue could be made he felt a tight hand clasped around his throat, all airways cut off momentarily until he was thrown back at an angle that forced him into a full turn, his knees caught the dresser on the vanity chair, sending his forehead first into the mirror of the vanity mirror.

The skin broke underneath the amount of pressure brought on by the shattering glass. The pieces with sharp ends and tips sliced directly into him, allowing streams of warm blood to thickly pour down his face. Before he could respond to the injuries, his arm was once again roughly grabbed and the offender pulled him away from the mess, only to slam him against the wall, the back of his head smashed into it, momentarily giving him only blackness within his vision.

The grip was taken from his arm to his neck. Both hands wrapped around the delicate neck, pressuring against his wind pipe, cutting off any air reaching his lungs. This brought him out of threatening unconsciousness, he was further dragged up the wall, feet no longer touching the floor, causing this attack to become all the worse as the weight from his own body brought worse pressure against his wind pipe.

He tried to bring his hands up to push his wrists away, but his purpose was obvious, and he wasn't going to let go until he decided he wanted to. Henry was able to let out a breathless statement that would remain useless, "Let...L-Let go..."

His eyes met with those of Walter's, and once again he saw that terrifying glare that he'd unsuccessfully tried to avoid, to never again have to look into murderous icy gold emeralds again...

"You have been causing trouble for me Henry..." He growled, "And have defied me for the last time... You will learn your place, and will be punished for your impudence."

Henry was barley able to comprehend what he was saying, his head was beginning to become clouded by the lack of oxygen, he felt the amount of painful pressuring against the wall disappear, but to be thrown towards the foot of the bed, back searing with pain as it hit the curve of the board. The front of his shirt was taken, Walter knelt before him, still angered by Henry's actions, "Those marks belong to me."

Henry was brought forward into a bruising kiss, he didn't realize what was occurring at first but when he did, he was disgusted beyond any measure. He lifted his right leg, kicking towards Walters abdomen, it did the trick, the other man hit the floor. He was ready to grab something to protect himself, but when he'd risen Walter had already gotten up, he felt himself punched in the face. Then everything was dark.

****

He groaned in pain, his head felt as if a lead weight had been surgically implanted there, for the purpose of causing him large amounts of pain. Light shown in through the window, making the room all too bright. He placed a hand on the side of his face but found that not just skin and hair resided there. Pulling his hand away he examined what remained stuck to it, just as he feared... Red increments were there, sticking from what hadn't dried on his face.

He was lying on the floor near his bed, and a small puddle of blood had been left where his head was, looking towards the mirror, he saw it smashed in with red dried on the edges of the middle where the hit had originally taken place. Pushing himself off the ground he rushed into the bathroom, first to the mirror. He had dried blood, crusted from the amount of time he was out.

Turning on the faucet he allowed warm water to flow, before splashing it on his face, using his hands to rub the evidence away.

It ran a light red color as it flowed into the sink, he was relieved just to have the substance washed away, to have what happened the previous night washed away.

He looked up into his reflection, past his hands and the water. What was happening to him? It couldn't have been a damn dream or messages. He didn't want to think he was doing this stuff to himself... He lifted the strands of wet hair on his forehead, a deep cut that needed treatment, angling his neck, there was light bruising from the attack...

He backed up into the wall, covering his mouth as he went into pure panic, the reflection copied as he did but dammit he was sure who the hell he was!

_Twenty one out of Twenty one that's who you are._

And offending voice spoke up in his head, the side that wanted to just simply give in, allow himself to be taken, just for all of this to end. He couldn't let himself give up though, he wouldn't, he couldn't.

_Remember how much stronger he is than you. Your just a pawn in his game and it wont be long till checkmate. A pretty little click on the board._

Hell no, he tried to cover his ears, squeeze his eyes shut and not think. Just don't think. "I feel like I'm losing my mind..."

_Why don't you? It's all just a fun game. Games are fun, and why not just lose? Losing is easier when you don't think that games are fun! Go back, you don't belong here, you never belonged here._

.. Ignore it, just ignore it.

_You belonged there. You always have. Always._

Sitting on the tile floor, he let his hands drop to the floor, green hues blank as they stared at nothing in particular. Pushing off the ground he opened the cabinet, taking out smaller bandages and placing it over the wound. His bangs could easily cover it. "We'll see..." He muttered. He wouldn't give in.

****

When he exited his room in normal day clothing her heard Damien call from his room, "Hey Henry, can you come look at something with me."

He looked towards the room down the hall, the door was open, he was pretty sure that was Damien's room. Stepping through the doorway he saw Damien -standing for once in the casual tee-shirt and jeans, though as usual it consisted of the ashy black that made his name ever the slightly stereotypical- he had his hand up to his mouth in a considering gesture, when he noticed Henry had entered the room he pointed towards the wall.

"It just showed up out of nowhere last night..." He spoke quietly, what he had noticed were black crackings in the wall paper, "I've never had issues like this before, and we don't really have earthquakes out here, so I'm not really sure what could have caused it..."

His entire being had gone numb, it couldn't be similar to the cracks in the mirror could it... He was about to respond, but Shannon yelling interrupted, "DAMMIT!" They both looked at one another, obviously her strange behavior hadn't ended. Following her voice she was in her room looking through a drawer, she sighed deeply, "Daniel do we have an lighters or matches?"

He creesed his brows, sarcastically mentioning, "You don't smoke."

Her head shot up, "No, I don't but I just... We have a fire place shouldn't we have any?"

"Used the last of the matches the other day," He recalled, tapping his chin thoughtfully, although with Damien no one was ever sure if he had just remembered something or was simply annoying the questioner.

Still, she didn't seem to dwell on it, her arms dropped to her sides, "Great..."

"Why'd you yell?" Henry asked, it didn't seem to be from the lack of finding the matches.

Shannon frowned sadly, "I hit my head..." She grumbled it childishly.

"She's a klutz," Damien mentioned, she tried to defend herself by yelling that she was not, but that only ensued a small argument of 'am not' and 'are to' from the two adults. Henry actually smirked at the child like behavior, eventually he even began laughing. Damien and Shannon stopped their small tiff, to look towards him.

"He thinks were funny." Shannon said quietly.

"Shall we give him something to laugh about?" Damien asked.

"Indubitably," She responded, he didn't find it as a good sign, they grinned and within the next few seconds, when they bounded towards him, he decided to bolt for it. When going down the hall, Shannon tripped over her own feat, taking Damien down with her and intern they knocked Henry with them to the carpet floor.

"See!" Damien yelled as he rose back up, grabbing his glasses and placing them back on, "I told you, your a klutz!"

Shannon also got off the ground, "No, you probably tripped but it backfired on you!"

"What's a river in Egypt?" He asked accusingly.

"Just Egypt or all of Africa?!" She yelled back, he stared at her with a raised eyebrow, she crossed her arms smirking, "Egypt is a part of Africa, I did always get better scores on my geography tests."

"Whatever," He said rolling his eyes.

"Hey...Your knees are sort of digging into my back..." Henry said in a strained voice from the floor, "Can you please get off..."

They both apologized quickly, moving so he could too get up, "Anyways," He sighed, rubbing his soar shoulder, "I could go to the store with you Shannon to get matches for... Whatever you need."

Her expression changed, she seemed ever so slightly on the sad side with a mix of sympathy, for a moment she hugged him lightly, "Thanks Henry..." She said quietly. He looked up to Damien questioning, he shrugged, shaking his head, not sure either of why she had responded in that way.

After they stood up Shannon and Henry dressed properly for the cold weather for South Ashfield, Henry wore the borrowed long brown coat -though he recalled, it was the same one as when he went to the subway- and Shannon a gray and white woman's winter coat and a black beret over her blond hair.

They bade Damien a farewell temporarily, and as they got in the car he called to them, "Adieu!"

"Tu me peles le jonc, cretin!" She yelled at him, "We'll be back soon!"

"Mince," He shrugged with a large sigh, than put his hands up, "Tant pis,"

She laughed shaking her head, "Ya, like you'd be able to get through life without us, you'd be hopeless,"

Getting in the drivers seat and turning the keys in the ignition she was still laughing slightly, Henry decided to finally ask, "You two are really close aren't you?"

"Hm?" She glanced towards him, pulling the car out of the lot, "Well... Damien have been family friends ever since we were kids, I didn't go to the same high school as you guys though, were like siblings, without the blood relation." She gave him a side glance, as he made a sound of surprise, then realization hit her, "Oh, what! You thought that Damien and I... Ugh, no, never, again like siblings. I actually have a boyfriend, but he's on business though, out of town..." She smiled softly, obviously disappointed, "To answer your next question though, his name is Allen, an adorable red head with glasses."

That sounded familiar... "Oh ya! That picture in your room."

"Ya..." Her voice changed, it became distant, she sighed, her hands clenching the wheel, "Listen Henry, do you remember knowing a woman names Eileen?"

That name...It always brought a heavy feeling on his heart... He couldn't be sure why, "I...I still don't remember anything..." Unconsciously his fingers touched his neck, he'd put a bandage there after last nights incident, feeling sickened by the sight of it again, "But something about that name rings a bell... It's like... It's like all my memories are in a book, right in front of me," He smirked weakly, "Except I've closed my eyes, and refuse to open them..."

She kept on towards the road. She couldn't help him with the book, but she could try to help Eileen protect him.

****

Damien shut the door behind but the moment he did, he slumped against it. Now he was bored. That always happened when the two weren't around, and it was true, no matter how they teased each other and Henry, he did, he needed them. He wouldn't have much to live for if he lost them...

Well, anyways, he started up the stairs, he needed to figure out what the hell to do about the cracks in his wall. Entering back into his room he was shocked, "What...The..." He whispered to himself. The cracks had become worse... It was impossible. Something in him felt strange... He felt a little dizzy standing near it, feeling drawn in towards it, he lifted his arm and tentatively, touched the rough surface of the intruding marks on his wall.

When his fingers grazed it, it was already too late to realize he'd made a terrible mistake. He felt like something had suddenly been jabbed into his skull, invading the inside of his head. He grasped his hair, trying to stay calm, but the sudden terrible headache caused his vision to blur, he thought he could hear whispering, low and close.

"No..." He muttered through clenched teeth, he felt heavy, he stumbled backwards, completely knocking over a dresser. Tears formed at the corners of his eyes, but when he heard someone walking he forced them open. All that escaped his throat was a gasp when through the blur he could see the shade of blue, he was roughly pushed and only then did he realize he'd exited his room into the hallway. Everything that was underneath him was gone, and he was sent tumbling down the staircase, every inch of him smashing into the railing, stairs, and wall.

By the time he reached the bottom he felt consciousness wanting to leave him, but he just couldn't, he had too much will to allow himself to simply slip out of a state of mind whilst he knew someone was in the house with him who was more then likely potentially dangerous.

Struggling up he got on one elbow he looked upwards towards where he'd been pushed. Terror welled up in his chest as he saw a man standing at the top of the stairs. Wavy dark blonde hair, a blue coat, and piercing green eyes.

It was him.

He gulped down, trying not to show he was terrified, but lifted himself up further trying to get back from the stairs so he could get up, damn his legs were hurting, something wouldn't let him ignore the pain, he still felt like something either than his own thoughts resided in his head and it was hindering him.

They had begun down the stairs, "Just as stubborn as him..."

Him? Who the hell... He wasn't talking about Henry was he?!

"No matter though..." He spoke quietly, at the end of the stairs, stepping towards him, a grin appearing, "I know your weakness."

Damien was too late to do anything, the man knelt before him grabbing his wrists and shoving him back down to the floor, "Bastard!" He spat out trying to struggle out of his hold.

"I do not care what you think of me," He spoke so simply, applying his weight to the struggling man to be sure he could complete the process, the one called Damien was trying to fight it, just as stubborn as Henry, but mattered not, he was only a human, only in the way, but now had a temporary use, "You will help me," He said through a laugh.

"Ridicule!" He yelled out, Walter had noticed as he watched over Henry that the raven haired man had the habit of speaking in French, though he didn't have care for it, "Jamais!"

He was using the statements to attempt in his own mind, he didn't understand what was occurring but he was trying to fight it, Walter smirked, if he didn't have a use, he'd already snapped the males neck, he lent forward, whispering in a mocking voice, "You believe your strong? But what if... What if you lost the both of them?" He placed his hands over evergreen eyes, with part control he could send images.

Just as he did to Temptation. Source. Ms. Galvin. And Henry.

And he saw it, the beings he cared for the most dead on their trip, car smashed, bleeding and motionless. At first he let out a yell, but then he stopped struggling, his motions halting completely. Walter lifted a hand off, and stood back. Damien lye there, glasses slipped from his face, wrists at the side of his head, but just as he had closed them, he opened his eyes.

Looking from side to side, he stayed there, a minute passed, and he chuckled quietly. Moving into a sitting position, though a glare came to his pale face, "This one really does have bad eyesight..." He spoke quietly, reaching for the glasses he placed them back on, "Oh well... He will be the best for this."

He got up off the ground, smile returning once again, reaching his hands out he examined the pale skin, "First time I've ever tried this...It is a good thing it worked."

He stretched his limbs in the new body, annoyed that he had to push up the glasses again, "Your punishment begins here Henry..."

****

Henry and Shannon walked up the stairs laughing as they stepped towards house with grocery bags. They'd decided while they were at the store to get a few more things and when a group of people asked where the bandage on Henry's neck came from, all completely suspicious of his identity they had to make up a bogus story of how he got it and who he was. A simple shopping trip almost turned on them, but they'd handled it.

"Man, Damien's going to love this," Shannon said still laughing along with Henry.

"You just pulled this 'power surge' thing with construction, right off the top of your head?" He asked raising an eyebrow.

She smirked at him before opening the door, "Henry, I do watch TV."

When they both entered in, something in the air seemed different. A little heavier then the usual lightness is ensued, Damien stood at the kitchen table seeming to be writing. His normal relaxed posture seemed stiff, perfected almost, the two glanced at one another, then towards him, "Hey... Damien..." Shannon tried, staying in her place however, "Were home?" It came out a question rather then an actual greeting due to her nerves now in a bunch.

He looked up quickly, before his lips curved a smile, he grabbed the paper, crumpling it up and throwing it in the trash as he stood back up, there seemed to be more things different. His usual height didn't mean anything, but now his towering over those he knew almost gave off a threatening vibe, and his eyes...

"Damien?" Shannon said, walking forward, setting the bags down, "Your eyes they... They've gotten lighter, way light..." She reached up moving the bangs away from the sides of her face, but as soon as she did, she retreated back as if she'd been burned, Henry hurried to her side.

"You both seem so nervous..." He murmured, smile never leaving, his gaze wandered to Henry, staying there, he brought a hand to his forehead, "I'm sorry... I haven't exactly felt myself today." He let out a low chuckle.

"It's okay," Henry answered to him, but the look he was witnessing made him feel the need to force out the sentence in a shaking, unsure voice.

Shannon however, had a terrible feeling that she... She needed to take care of the doll as soon as possible, something about Damien reminded her of this. She'd have to rewrite everything she knew about reality later... "Listen I... I have something I need to do..." Although she made it sound like she was speaking to the both of them, it really was meant to contribute towards Henry, "Do you guys mind me leaving you here?"

Henry looked towards her, their glances meeting, he nodded to her, while Damien answered, "Of course not; Henry," He called his attention towards him, with a soft smile that only looked like it was hiding lies, "Why not we go for a walk?"

Henry stared at him, blinking like it would change him back, but after a bit took in a shaky breath, trying to act like everything was still regular, "Ya...Ya why not..."

"Wonderful," He said in a dragged out word, "I will go get my coat then..."

He laughed slightly, the sound only coming from his throats as he watched the two with the watchful gaze of a serpent, he turned away disappearing to the next floor. Both waited till he was gone to turn towards each other, Shannon spoke first, as quietly as she could, "I'm sorry Henry, I'm so sorry. This is really important and I..." She bit her bottom lip, before looking back up, "My whole spectrum of what's real and what's not is changing...But I'll adapt...Be careful, Damien is... I don't know what's up with him..."

"Something must have happened while we were gone, and it wasn't good." He shook his head, "Don't worry Shan, I'll figure it out,"

She smiled weakly, "You use to call me that all the time before all of this. Both of you did..." She thought of Eileen, wishing Allen was here, wishing Henry would have bought a different apartment, wishing that Eileen would have done the same, they might not have met but she might still be safe and happy, living life as full as she always did. She stepped forward, hugging Henry which was returned without a heartbeat, "Be careful..." She looked to the top of the staircase where Damien had returned. Just standing there, watching them.

"You too." He muttered as quietly as he could. They parted.

**I guess an explanation is at hand. When Damien said 'Adieu' it's French for 'Good bye forever or Till God' It's basically a farewell forever, till death. So Shannon stated that "You get on my nerves, fool!".**

**His response was; "Darn" Next sentence, "Oh well."**

**I guess I should probably start putting up translation.**

**By the way, Shannon's reference to TV came from Fringe. When I was sick and had to stay home I spent the whole day getting caught up on season one so it sort of just got added in there. The idea with the doll... That sort of just came as I wrote this, I wanted Eileen to be further placed into the story and now there's some girl power! Working together to try and help Henry!**

**And Walter, you bastard. If you haven't caught what happened it will be explained next chapter.**


	7. Deception

Shannon had left the house with them, waving good bye as she parted to the opposite direction, the two of them still wore their winter coats while Damien had gotten one similar to Henry's but as expected the shading only expanded to black. _'At least he still has the Damien clothing taste...' _Henry thought distantly as he watched him from the corner of his eye.

He never seemed to stop smiling the same creepy one that didn't match, the ever so slight quirk of the lips just seemed like it was a part of his expression. He put one of his hands out in a gesture, "Shall we, Henry?"

He blinked, unnerved by Damiens voice, but nodded to him, "Ya," His want was to stay slightly behind the man but Damien slowed his pace so they walked side by side, he decided to try and strike up conversation, "So, where are we going?"

He chuckled again, "You seem to worry over everything about to happen rather then the present Henry," He angled his sight towards the sky as he spoke.

"Damien..." He said shaking his head, "Your not acting like yourself, this isn't just you not feeling well...It's something different. What happened while we were gone?"

Henry had stopped along the sidewalk, and after a moment, Damien too stopped walking, his shoulders became hunched as he inhaled deeply, "I was hoping to drag this on further..." He muttered, he straightened his posture putting his arms out, laughing unnaturally instead of the small snickers and chuckles he had early, this came out in an insane sound, when his laughing fit came to an end, he lowered his arms back to his sides.

It was then that Henry saw it happening, all the light on the city had dampened at a fast pace, everything dissipating into darkness, strange metallic noises sounded near by, like they were bleeding in thickly like spilling paint, this was all similar to that world... Wind started up, pushing past the both of them.

"You brought this upon yourself Henry!" Damien called over the wind current, he began to turn, removing his glasses as he did, "If only you had simply listened to your instincts and returned to Mother and I and all of this trouble you've caused could have been prevented!"

He faced Henry, it was then he recognized the eyes, how they changed. Sharp like broken stained glass, but icy cold at the same notion, bright as emeralds. That tone of speaking, controlled and proud but still something in it that demanded the attention of a psychiatrist.

The city changed before his presence under his demand becoming a deformed version of what it was before, but it wasn't Damien himself, causing this...Only one person could.

The name came to mind. Walter. But how...

****

Shannon hurried down the sidewalk, she knew of a place close by, only a couple blocks away, that she could easily get away with burning the doll. There was a warehouse that stood near the only body of water here in South Ashfield, normally if a person wanted to actually go to the beach they'd have to drive to the next town. The water could be seen from the railing however, but most of the time construction was being done by it so on a normal basis the area would be restricted.

Lucky for her, most industries in Ashfield easily got along with one another and the company had done part of the work on the restaurant, being a friendly group she and Damien had become acquaintances with the employees, being so she knew that this day that no one would be working on this particular day of the week.

If she had even more luck then she'd find herself alone there, burning a doll wasn't something you see everyday nor considered sane. She lifted her watch into her view, it was still the morning, so hopefully people wouldn't choose to leave their homes quite yet to view the ocean. Shannon frowned again thinking of Daniel... She joked on a constant basis over her suspicions about being alone with Henry but never actually had any suspicions that he would do anything.

He was a good person...

The man she stood before at the house was a stranger. Completely different from the child, the teenager, the adult, the person she'd grown up with like a brother. Suddenly she halted her rushed footsteps and looked back... She couldn't consider any possibilities of why Daniel was acting this way... She didn't want to decide whether Henry was safe with him or not for she did not want to compare his safety to anything that could be restricted by Daniel...

She cringed, forcing herself to continue the path towards the warehouse, after a few minutes, it was finally in sight. She had a small bit of happiness strike for those few seconds, but purpose stole her. Stepping towards the railing that held people from stumbling off the concrete and into the depths below. She took in a breath of the morning sea air, even if in the background the smell of industry played its way in from the machines.

She reached into her pocket producing the small cloth doll into her hand. It was so light, an an innocent smile played on its motionless face... Still... "Here goes nothin'" She breathed out.

With the other hand she took the matches, tearing one off and striking it against the side until it lit up a small flame, she moved her hands over the edge of the railing the doll over the fire. It began to crumble, any plastic that was contained in the stitching began to melt away with the crusting charring creeping up the legs and eventually to the dress.

With a saddened expression she held it by its fingerless hand, watching as it slowly burned away all the fluff inside and the cloth outside. From the angle she held it gave her enough time to watch it until little was left.

She knew it was time, she could feel the heat near her fingertips, with one motion of her index finger and thumb separating from the cloth. Its remains plummeted down towards the depths. She stood there for a bit, then draped her arms over the edge of the railing and sighed, "Well what now?"

She had to return home now, she hoped by the time she got back Henry and Damien would have gotten back. As she walked she let her mind wander, soon it caused her to bring a hand up to her stomach and release a long sigh as her footsteps echoed off the walls.

She had planned to tell Henry and Damien about the wonderful news before all this insanity began and in her condition she shouldn't even be dealing with this...

But she had to, there was no other choice. While lost in her thoughts she realized she'd returned home, about to pass it in fact. She dropped her hand from her stomach and turned so she could walk up the steps without accidentally having to walk another block because she wasn't paying attention.

Using the key she got herself inside, shutting the door behind her as she entered the warm house. Removing the large white coat she called, "Henry...Damien? I'm home..." Waiting a moment, she knew that she was alone now.

Swinging her arms like a child she thought about what she should do, looking towards one of the small tables she saw her cell phone, the screen on top alerted her that she has missed a message, flicking it open she pressed the button to listen, putting it on speaker.

She recognized Allen's voice immediately, he sounded like he was in a busy place and in a hurry; _'Shannon! Hey, it's me, you already know though,'_ There was a small laugh after that, she was happy to hear how excited he sounded,_ 'Listen, finally got around to getting a hold of my boss and he agreed to let me off with only going to one more meeting and they'll get another representative to come out here, so I can get home because of our little surprise,'_ Another happy laugh,_ 'I'm so glad that you finally be a Mother, oh and tell your friend Henry I said hi, and I'm glad to be finally meeting him for the first time, though it's sad he caught a nasty case of amnesia.' _Allen and his humor, she shook her head, _'So until I'm there to do your bidding my princess, please take care of yourself, don't trip onto your stomach, although once Damien knows he'll be bugging you about it wont he? Well, I've got to get to the meeting, call me back so I can hear your voice finally, I love you, bye.'_

It made her smile hearing that message for a bit but it melted into a frown leaving her staring at the phone. Another meeting before he had to get on a plane and arrive in another city and drive from there. Who knows how long it would take?! Did she really wanted him to be involved in all of this anyways?

No. It was a blessing he couldn't get home soon. She couldn't allow anything to happen to him.

It occurred to her that a cold breeze brushed against the exposed part of her legs from the skirt she wore but... It was warm before how did... Everything inside of her froze, she just stood there, but when she fearfully edged the phone over a little looking at the reflection in the glass.

Just as she hoped wouldn't she could see the door open, blowing the curtains on the windows to the side, and a shape of someone...Standing near by. She frowned gulping down tears and they both stood still. She decided on a plan of action, distraction. Swiftly turning round she chucked the phone in the intruders direction. She ran towards the kitchen entrance behind her, the room made a turn behind the man to the front door, if she was fast enough she could-

She felt something smash into the back of her head sending her flying to the hard surface of the kitchen floor, when she only made it halfway through. It was painful but she struggled up, on her elbows first until she could flip over to give her a chance to scoot back into the cupboards and get a good look at the attacker.

Eyes turned wide, heart nearly stopped, she whispered in one almost hiss, "You..."

Long blonde hair to his shoulders, blue coat smeared with blood, tan pants and dress shoes, it was him. Strangely, there was no constant smile, no piercing green eyes. Only a solemn frown and blank orbs almost apologetic.

Still it was the man whom attacked Henry. Which meant..

Which meant she had to get the hell out of here! She scrambled up, the other followed the notion when she had reached her knees he grasped her ankle in an attempt to most likely beat her into unconsciousness.

"No!" She cried out, kicking backwards knocking him in the face but the harsh let go of her ankle sent her colliding with the carpet. She retaliated, shoving herself off the ground taking the side of the round kitchen table that sat in the corner and knocking it over. Her run again sent her trying towards the door, but by the time she had collected herself the man had swiped in front of it blockading her exit. Shannon backed up, she needed another plan.

To her surprise, he actually put his hands up, as if to calm her, "Please, don't fight, you-,"

"Stay the hell away from me!" She shrieked, hopefully one of the neighbors would put themselves to use and here a scuffle occurring next door. She grasped a lamp off a side table ripping it from its socket and like the cell phone tossed it as hard as she could in his direction.

With that she tried the hallway running as fast as she could, it was a separate living room on the other side of the house, two large windows held on that side. She went to them first, grasping underneath the wooden part she tried to open it but although they weren't locked they wouldn't budge.

"Dammit..." Shannon whimpered, she began pounding her fists against it but nothing did good for her. Looking around quickly she saw a gold colored letter opener laid upon a table, perhaps that... It was worth trying.

She took it swinging her arm back she stabbed down against the glass of the widow, but when the tip made contact it reacted not. Just bounced back along with her, sending her back a bit into something. It wasn't furniture nor a wall. She'd realized that she wasn't listening to any trigger sounds of the man rising whilst trying to get the window open.

Wasting no time she twisted around bringing her hand back as she did with the window and with adrenalin that had built up she left behind all logic or standards she had, and stabbed into the upper chest of the man.

He cried out in frustration from the injury and before she could make a break for it he took hold of her wrist and brought a fist up connecting it with her temple. He needed to knock her into unconsciousness as soon as possible. He still had her wrist when her face snapped to the side from the hit.

Her head dropped as she began to quietly whimper, for the moment not struggling he was ready to simply knock her head into a wall, finishing off her wakefulness, but her blue eyes met green, narrowed in rage. Kicking out one leg she knocked it into his sending him off balance and took the chance to push away from him, from her current wariness from her head being smashed by an unmerciful fist she was uncoordinated. She fell slight forward, knocking the contents off onto the ground but reincorporated, hurrying down the opposite side she'd came through, falling against the wall for a moment but collected herself again.

Groaning she heard him again gaining up on her, she rushed for the computer desk hearing the effects a keyboard could have on a persons skull. She grasped it and without wasting any time she swung it, the sharp plastic edge of the keyboard hit onto the side of the mans face, Shannon swung again drawing blood this time splattering it against the carpeting.

But he wasn't giving up, all to her dismay even with such lethal hits on him he remained not only conscious but responsive and quick. His clenched fist with something shining in his hand came towards her, she recognized it as the letter opener she used to stab him earlier. Tables turned.

The sharp weapon entered her leg as he aimed unsteadily, it did what was wanted however. She, never having to deal with such amounts of pain, instantly burst into tears blurring her vision and cried out loudly giving him time for no retaliation.

He took both her arms, swinging her and sending Shannon into the floor again, landing on the unharmed leg, but her head hitting the arm of the corner of a side table next to the couch, opening a new wound on her head, blood slipped from her head exiting onto the pristine couch and flooring.

The blonde walked towards her, seeing no movement. He sighed in relief, finally... Finally he was able to stop, as it had to be done until master saw fit... Kneeling down he took the woman from her back and arm, pulling her up, her eyes were shut but...Seeing more closely...They were moving too quickly for-

The blue eyes snapped open, the bruised fist of a woman took a blow to his jaw.

He let her go, she jolted up, blood sliding down her leg and face from the two injuries, knuckles even split open from the excessive use of the soft and sensitive skin. Rushing for the door she had her hands around the handle finally, the sweat and blood caused her to slip but she kept trying.

The door was locked...Locked from the inside.

Fingers snared painfully into her locks of blonde hair, and bashed her head into the door, one crack, two crack, opening a bleeding injury on her forehead . With turn from the one keeping a hold on her she was swung into another wall where she was punched twice more, one meeting her head again, another in the eye.

To be sure of the deed being done, he shoved her in another direction sending her flying into the glass table, under her weight the table shattered the metal beams that once kept the glass held up was now supporting the woman's hanging legs and arms.

Even then though he heard her crying once again, she remained conscious. She slipped herself out of the once held together table but this time only back into the wall next to the TV, holding her stomach she cried harshly, "Please... Please just..." She looked up at him with desperate eyes, she was a mess. Blonde hair matted and tangled in blood and glass, her body and clothes holding streaks of it and small decorations of slivers of glass cutting her skin covered the woman, finally she was able to stop her crying to finish what she had to say, "Just...I-I'm pregnant... Don't hurt my child..."

His eyes became wide, the woman...Was meant to be a Mother? He stood there a while, staring down at her, the woman sobbing uncontrollably. Walking towards her he knelt down, and taking the sides of her head and one last hit against the back wall, she was unconscious.

He rose again, covering his face, "Why...Why..." He brought his hands back slipping them through his hair as his appearance changed to how it was normally. A copy of Henry Townshend, with bloodied eyes to symbolize their differences, the blue coat remained, but he was able to return his appearances back. Master had wanted the woman to know who was in control of this as he did to possess Damien and exerted further control on the one he truly wanted, Henry, by taking his 'friends' captive in different senses of the word.

He looked back down at the woman and recalled the incident with Eileen. Shannon's current state was only going to upset her more. She tried to stop him...

----

Eileen sat on the couch of 302, her legs pulled up to her chest and arms wrapped around her legs. Her thoughts kept running at a speed to great for her at the moment. She was stressed beyond belief. Never did she consider that she'd be awaiting to see if she could enlist the help of someone whom was still living because she had been murdered previously.

Then again did anyone think of such things? If they do, they have her pity.

Something was different with her partner (She wasn't exactly sure of what to call him...). He had muttered something and rushed out into the next room, she had guessed for some reason he'd gone into the dimension that had Walters complete and total control.

Taking a large intake of air she tilted her head against the wall, she'd read all of Henry's notes that had been given to him by Joseph when he had been locked in 302. She thought back towards Joseph, it had been a long walk and due to her possession before, she was barley able to recall how she and Henry had gotten there, but found the staircase and made her way down there.

Joseph had not been released from his place on the ceiling of 302 of the Past and difficulty talking was still part of his disability. She sat on the carpet, quietly talking with him, ever patient with his slow speech. At least they had one another for their time here. The other Sacraments however did not have the luck that she and Joseph had. Still wandering the world without any thought nor care towards this, strange noises uttering from their disfigured floating bodies.

They would not come after her any longer, not while a fight wasn't needed, even as she felt like she wanted to lend a helping hand towards them, she knew it wasn't possible. She had no control over this place, at the very least they couldn't feel the pain of memories or wounds. Still, the empty spirits brought her despair, and thinking of Henry being brought into this place, obviously being kept conscious just as she and Joseph, it hurt worse. It hurt without him too, however.

She had to do her best to keep him away from here, he didn't remember her anyways. She was just a lost memory in the back of his head.

"Doesn't matter..." She muttered, pulling her knees up to her chest. She blinked and looked up when the sound of a door opening made through the silence, the clone walked into the living room, but immediately went for the door, his head canted downwards towards the floor, without even glancing towards her.

"Hey," She called without any better means of getting his attention and climbed off the couch, he had stopped near the door, his shoulders hunched, and head hanging, something was wrong, she lightly reached a hand forward, touching it to his arm, he jerked it away as if he'd been burned, causing her to jump herself, "Hey..." She repeated, trying to bring some calm into the situation, whatever had happened, it snapped her towards the rage Walter attempted to keep undertone, often doing harm on the clone as he couldn't fight the one who created him, making him terrified, "What's wrong...Did something happen?"

He shook his head swiftly, brown locks waving, he tried to speak but it came out just as a croak at first, after a shuddered breath he turned his head slightly, "Master he... He can't let Henry's friends get in the way anymore...I...I have to retrieve the woman..."

Shannon?! She quickly grabbed his arm, trying to keep him from moving from going, "No! You-You can't do this!"

He shook his head again, "I have to, Master has ordered it..."

He was resisting her trying to pull him towards her, there was something strange, she heard a sound, distant and light, barley audible but still there... It sounded like a small plopping, she blinked, looking down towards the floor, down at his shoes, on the carpeting, dark liquid touched it leaving a blob for a moment before soaking in. Her eyes widened dramatically, it was blood, although she felt sick, she more forcefully grabbed his arm turning him, he seemed to give in, letting her turn him.

A high pitched gasp that could have been a scream escaped her throat as she stepped back, hands flying up to her mouth, tears forming at the sides of her eyes, but she calmed a bit her hand coming down slight, "What happened?" She questioned in a panic.

He didn't look at her, he still had his head turned away slightly, but his left eye it... Blood ran down his face, partly dry but still had bleeding, it wasn't like normal... This round, blade marks were held in the destroyed part of his face, slice marks on parts of his face as well, his right eyes was left and he refused to look at her, "Master is upset." He answered quietly.

"U-Upset?!" She sputtered out, how could he make excuses for that bastard! She wanted to do something but found her use hindered once again, she tightened her fists in anger, "He can't just..." But she was reminded, he was going to go get Shannon, Henry and Damien must be in danger as well, "Please, don't do this!"

"I have to." He whispered, he opened the door and before she could try and grab him again, he closed it. She had to fallow him, to stop him but when she tried the door refused her, staying shut. This had happened before, at certain times, she was allowed to leave, but when she'd done something that wasn't of liking the door stayed shut, locking her in. This must been how Henry felt.

****

He had no idea how to react. What was Damien saying? Damien smiled more thoroughly, stepping towards him in the dark of the city, his arms crossed behind his back, "When she died," He spoke, voice rising, "You seemed so sad, simply dropped, and I thought it was the perfect moment to complete the Sacraments but... You resisted. It was futile of course,"

It couldn't be, he wasn't about to except it, "Damien, what the hell are you talking about?! Your talking just like..."

He tilted his head slightly, "Like?" He took a few steps forward again, nearing the man opposite, "Like whom are speaking of Henry? Please, revel the audience..."

He didn't look at him, couldn't look into sharp green eyes that could pierce and harm with a mere glance, "Like Walter..."

A snicker began, but it slowly changed from an uncontrolled giggle to a whole hearted laugh, Henry's eyes led back up at this, awaiting for when it ended, when he finished Damien settled back on him, smirking he leaned forward, next to Henry's ear, speaking in a low whisper, "Don't you want to know my name... I know you do."

Henry's eyes dilated for a moment, flying wide open, as quickly as he reacted he pushed the black haired man away with a hard shove, his breath had quickened into short gasps as he remembered the subway. Walter he'd... Those words that led him to search his attackers name. He hadn't told either Shannon or Damien that incident of being shoved again the wall in such a manner.

It showed his weakness to greatly.

"No...No," He denied it repeatedly shaking his head, eyes glancing up and down from the blackened gravel to Damien, as if he would change to one or the other, finally he spoke up, "W...Walter?" He questioned.

"Yes?" His voice sounded so amused, false want to answer to ones name sounded with it, but he knew truthfully that it was just him playing his games.

He snapped out of the confusion, clenching his fists he began raging, "What have you _done_?!"

"It's simple," He'd backed up a bit, to a short ledge, putting his hands against the concrete he hopped up sitting on it, "A little thing called possession, your friend Damien's body," He brought a pale hand up to his chest, "Now belongs to me, it was easy to take him over, such a weak mind-,"

"Shut up..." Henry growled, from the arrogant voice and stands of the tones of Walter in Damien's voice rose his temper, he was tempted to take a swing at him just as he would if the man appeared in the bloodied blue coat with mat of blond hair form, but as he was now...

Henry knew he couldn't, not with him looking like Damien, in no way could he bring harm upon him... Now satisfied with Henry's silence Walter concealing himself like a wolf in sheep's clothing continued, "Now that I have your attention we can begin the next round of our little game since..." He snickered, "That's what this has all really become as of late, and as you so liked to call it before."

"You disgust me." Henry spat at him, glaring.

A hand went up, he leaned forward pressing his forefinger against his lips, quieting him, "Henry," He said, a sharp threatening tone showing he didn't feel like dealing with his interruptions made it obvious that he should calm himself, "Do you recall whom I control at the moment?"

He held still, eyebrows dipping down, the finger against his mouth felt wrong, he wanted to pull away but had to await until Walter finally made up his mind to lower the arm already, "Now will you listen...Well Henry?"

He saw what this was, he had to play the obedient dog now, in Walter's demented Wonderland he was the master and they were his subjects. The embodiment of the Cheshire Cat and Queen of Hearts, hell he could even be the Mad Hatter with his amount of insanity. Henry, he was stuck in the role of poor confused dreamy Alice.

He nodded like a good little Alice, but disobedience was in his nature around this man still.

"Good..." He said with a smirk, he leaned back slightly, grasping the edge of the concrete ledge, it took Henry a few seconds to realize what he was doing, it was a threat, "Our game will be that of 'catch', if you don't partake, Henry," He lifted himself, standing completely on the concrete, a light caught his glasses for a moment, "I'll kill him."

He watched Henry's eyes turn wide in horror, "Suicide to be exact. It's easy as a slit across the wrist or perhaps... The throat?"

"You bastard..." Henry growled deeply, his fists clenching deeper, nails digging far enough into his skin that a small droplet of blood spluttered to the ground like a rain drop.

All he got was another full laugh from the opponent, "I am aren't I?" He stated, but there was a small crack in what was suppose to be Damien's voice, still Henry could hear the oh so obvious insanity of the deranged mans voice in it, like a record playing off cue, he brought a hand up to his forehead, covering his eyes and lifting the black strands slightly, "Yes, yes, I never met my father, I am a bastard, what a fitting term," He'd begun to ramble to himself, but broke off suddenly pulling the hand back messily through the raven hair, it wasn't surprising that Walter wouldn't be as careful with Damien's hair as the man himself would, "Ah well, let the games begin Henry."

Suddenly, he let himself tip back and fall. Henry's heart must have hit his throat, he rushed forward regarding Walter's words earlier and for a split second actually felt a sense of betrayal as if he played by Walter's rules it was supposed to keep Damien alive, he grasped the ledge and when his eyes settled down he saw the man alive and well. Running in fact, towards a door.

He looked around, around a turn he hadn't seen before, in the dark version of the city that he was forced into by Walter, a staircase that led to where his possessed companion was heading. Although instincts told him to completely avoid the pitch black stairs he couldn't just go and back out of this like a coward!

So ignore logic he did, and ran down the steps. A few times it felt like he was going to slip and fall as he'd done so many times and brought damage to himself, but usually that was due to the water that invaded due to weather and... Well he'd rather not think about the Water Prison. This type felt different, slick like oil, he recognized the state he was being taken into, when he was truly taken by these worlds, the darkness that engulfed him, it felt like hands grasping him, trying to keep him in one place, trying to stop him from leaving.

He trudged on anyways, through the dark and located each step until it fades as he found himself turning a corner down into the area where he had to be, it seemed to be a roof of sorts... Another staircase led to another area and large machines lye there but the wooden door was his focal point, in which looked overly strange in this place. He noticed that at this point from the corner of his eyes he could see a red glow, turning around to take a quick look and realized that the way he'd taken to get here was gone.

Large fencing replaced the staircase with a glowing sign advertising to a city that probably wasn't inhabited or even there. He took a moment to let his heart calm at the fact that a piece of the city could just suddenly be gone with those minimal amount of seconds. He pushed it off quickly, knowing that if spent time questioning everything that happened in this place then he'd never get anything done. Ever.

Swiftly he wrenched the door open, entering into a completely mismatching area, it was a hallway to a home. A regular family looking house, though the hall was claustrophobic. He tried the two doors that stood on either side of the hall but both were broken, he guessed that bastard Sullivan hadn't taken either.

The insult just reminded him of that damned insane ramble earlier. Damn he couldn't get away from him, even in his own head, much less be able to see his own friend without a reminder ever again. No. He couldn't think that way, Walter Sullivan wasn't going to fuck up his life that far. He continued on into the oddly placed household. In what looked like the accommodations for a living room and a kitchen were -to much of his confusion- brightly set decorations, streamers to be exact lying across the ceiling and table, underneath the array was a...A cake, it looked real but no way in hell was he going to actually _check. _

Everything was still coated thickly with dust and spider webs -that made little sense though, even if there were creatures wandering he didn't imagine real world insects snuck in- to symbolize age of the room. Turning the corner he saw an old bookshelf, two doors, and a rather large blackened stain in the middle of the floor with a thick stab marking in the wooden flooring below it. He didn't even _want_ to consider what caused that.

His only option were the two doors and of course the one to his right had a broken lock making it inaccessible. So he had to take the other door, he took a deep breath as he took the cold metal of the door knob, so familiar... It caused him to let go, something about this...

What looked like a dead body, on the floor, gray and decayed but groaning and moving, the only thing keeping it there...

He leaned against the wall next to the door, hunching his shoulders as he broke out in a cold sweat. Grasping his head as he'd done so many times before he began to slip to the ground, his knees pulled up to his chest as he stayed there, breath hitched and...

He realized suddenly...Just how pathetic he probably looked. What was he doing? Trying to suppress any memories? It would defile Walter's attempts for whatever the Ritual required for his mother. Pulling himself off of the wooden flooring he practically ripped the door open, wanting nothing more to get this situation over with.

What meets his eyes are a large amount grating. Wonderful, more of that stuff.

"Henry, your looking a little sick,"

A familiar voice mixed together with a miserably familiar tone. Henry rushed forward, fingers snaring the metal fencing as he looked down where the sound echoed off the walls. Below, the styling was even worse than up where he was, the flat surface of the floors were mixes of red shaping in what looked to be spinal cords in water pain texture. The walls were crusting with rust and what could in fact be blood, Damien's possessed body stood among it in the middle of the flooring, smiling up at him with that arrogant grin and insane green eyes.

"Walter..." He growled, he refused to categorize a perfectly sane person with that serial killer, he just kept reminded himself of who the man really was in truth, hurrying down the stairs he was almost relieved that he hadn't even moved, glaring venomously he finally spoke, "Why don't you stop using a shield like a coward and face me,"

No response was given, he didn't move from the place he was in, why the hell wasn't he moving...

When Henry had neared he finally spoke, "Henry... Do you realize that sharing the same subconscious with another gives them access to memories, even thoughts..." A small snicker escaped his throat as he crossed his arms behind his back, staring through the shin sheet of reflective glasses, within seconds they were inches away, "It seems this man and I have... Similar wants..."

Before Henry could make any argument his chin was snatched by a pale hand and he pulled forward, silenced by lips covering his own ridding him of all ability to speak. It finally occurred to him that he was being kissed... In that confusion description was impossible....

Walter was doing the controlling but... This was Damien... Damien was...

The other man finally pulled away from the bewildered one, "So the game continues..." He said softly before walking off to the next level of stairs.


	8. Hide and Seek

**I've kind of lost the love for writing this that I had before... I had a different plot going on paper that I liked much more for this and the last couple chapters and I changed it... Now I really don't like it. Oh well, I'll keep writing. **

**I've got another story for after this that involves all of the Silent Hill characters, that one will come out right! At the end we will have a scene with Damien in Walter's and his shared subconscious so when that happens I'm warning so you're not confused. Truthfully, he was the funnest to write... Also, I've gotta tell you guys, truthfully, it's really difficult for me to add in any remote even close to being sexual content. It really is for me. Even kiss on the cheek I can't write without having to pause... So anyways anything in here that includes that is for my dear readers, I'm never going to give you guys up, or let you down. There. You just got guilt tripped and Rick Rolled all in one shot. Now enjoy your yaoi.**

He was still standing there.

Shock took him into paralysis for that time. That was until anger replaced that certain emotion as he attempted not to feel any embarrassment from the all to confusion situation. He had to find Walter, get him to release Damien from the hold he had him in, but... How was the largest question of the day.

Walter wanted him to return to his old apartment with the memories that once were established until they left him.

Was it due to trauma or... He had been dashing forward down the grated steps to get the the bottom of the grotesque area to follow after the possessed man, but his quick run slowed to a stride before he halted all together. His head was angled towards the floor, as thoughts interrupted everything he was doing before.

Could he really have done what Walter claimed he had?

Decided he no longer wanted to hold on to the edge where the memories kept clawing at his hands, leaving him with bloody knuckles and shredded skin? Forgotten all of his misfortune in 302, of Eileen, and the murderous man himself, but with that rid himself of everything as well?

Maybe the whole situation had brought up another realization, something he had buried away under his skin and away from minds eye, the whole truth that he himself hated his own being.

The dull man in the pictures he'd seen with absolutely no life producing except for the beat of a heart flowing blood through a body that only knew regular schedules, how to be not how to live.

It made it seem as though he really had died within the apartment with the memories he'd left behind and was reborn in the time it took to awaken to an unfamiliar world with no knowledge of anyone or anything.

He brought one hand up, tangling it through his bangs, "How fucking selfish..." He said in a hushed whisper.

With a sudden bust of nerves telling him he was in pain he realized he'd just been bashed with something blunt in the side sending him colliding into the rigid metal wall next to him with a loud clunking sound and to his knees.

He quickly whipped his head up to view his attacker expecting Walter to be standing there with a devious grin on his face, but no, he wasn't granted with this answer. A male stood there but this one seemed of an age much past his or Walters, his hair was graying and slicked back whilst his was a burned shirt with white with light blue stripes being tucked into his slacks while a tie with a biblical looking woman was designed on it.

In his clenched fist was a slightly rusted pipe, his skin was a disgusting dead gray tinge with risen up skin upon it. Henry let out a terrified noise, backing away on the floor before pushing himself off and attempted a quick run away from the male but before this could happen the attacker brought the pipe back then clashed it with the backs of his knees sending Henry once again to the hard flooring.

Above them, watching over the whole incident was the creator of the world, in the body of a man whose looks were meant to bring guilt to the one whom he was after, he had sat down, legs hanging over the grating, watching with sympathy as one of his puppets repeated merciless attacks on Henry, whom was unarmed and vulnerable.

He had differing opinions when it came to the pathetic looks of the humans whose lives could be crushed so easily underneath his unforgiving hands, some he were dirty portions of this life, so unpredictable and filthy, he enjoyed their inabilities to protect their lives, seeing the way they had to rely on others to get through because another life did not matter to them as long as theirs was granted more time.

However, those two who were the only pure of the Sacraments he couldn't stand to see without the necessity to protect themselves. Henry and Miss. Galvin, they were both clean, even if the blood marked their skin and seeped into the seems of their clothing it could so easily be washed away and no one would have guessed that it had been there.

They had a purity that had to be preserved, like the collection of dead butterflies he had witnessed at Pleasant River, beautiful forever. They had to be killed for that reason. That was why he aloted them ways of protection. The nineteenth Sacrament was simply lucky that he had a weapon when he entered into his world, when the passing over for their souls occurred that meant they had been cleansed, with Walter's hands none the less.

In this state, Henry almost sickened him, he had to return him to the way he was, or he wouldn't be able to return to Mother... Finally though, he'd spoken words that meant he had come to a realization of his completely unlawful actions, this didn't mean that he shouldn't be punished.

So he was allowing him to be attacked for punishment.

* * *

He sighed, removing Damien's glasses while he was in this body and polished them with the material of the black coat so he could see through these blurred eyes without distortion, it was then that he remembered when Henry had escaped from him... He had him in his grasp...

He smiled naturally, it was a thin expression that simply stayed with him as he was ever so near Mother with each second. In this moment however, it had become an entire keen grin. His Receiver of Wisdom stared out at the whirling pool of blood, blades cutting through it sending blood through their metal pieces but never straying to send any from the concrete flooring.

He'd fallen to his knees, ax had been let go of now lying near by, Walter took slow steps towards him, smiling at the horrified man, perhaps he was empty at the moment. It didn't matter. When he reached Henry he glanced down at the ax and after doing a false examination of it, simply kicked the weapon to the side.

This caught Henry's attention now, he looked down where the ax had clattered across the ground then the green marble eyes led up to Walter, standing before him. Henry looked so childish sitting there, no fear lying within him anymore, he simply looked up as if he was seeing an adult introduced by their parents that they hadn't met enough times to trust.

Walter chuckled, kneeling down before Henry, bringing his hand up and index finger under his chin so that he could angle the males head in a painful forced direction to looking up at him, "Do you know what happens now Henry?" He asked, he raised his other hand stroking Henry's cheek, the skin and stubble meeting his own skin, a wonderful feeling to him, "Yes, the bell has tolled, now Mother Reborn has been separated from the flesh, the twentieth Sacrament, now the twenty-first,"

Henry frowned slightly but his empty reflective eyes showed Walter nothing, so he merely continued, stroking his hand down to his jaw before stopping at his neck, he furrowed his brow staring at the skin there... Yes, he considered it and that would complete the portions of the body if he put the last number there.

"It will hurt Henry..." He took his hands from him, one reaching into his pocket to take the blade he always kept with him the other took the back of his head into his grasp to have a nice hold on Henry, "There are things that hurt more than this, this will be more like an excruciating slow sting," He could feel the hold on his own carefully kept sanity dwindling as he thought of the numbers, the last numbers before Mother, before keeping his last two Sacraments for himself for all of eternity, it was all too exciting, "I wont cut too deep, only enough to be able to draw the numbers in..."

For a moment everything was going just as he wanted it, he'd pressed the tip of the knife into the skin on Henry's neck, piercing it, but the beginning was when all went wrong.

This awoken Henry from the little world of despair and guilt that had brought the completely empty man that allowed himself to be defiled by the serial killer and with the pain it woke him back to his original self, and the instinct to stay alive.

"No!" He yelled out, shoving Walter off of him as a thin prick let blood slide down his neck into the seam of his shirt. He scrambled back up, heading for the ax that lay far from him, the handle hanging off the edge of the concrete, barley balancing away from the bloody pool beyond it.

His arms was extended for it, Walter looked up immediately with a glare, he was not going to allow the male to ruin all that he had been working towards all these long years.

He pushed himself from the concrete flooring and seeing the blood crusted pipe in view, snatched it up and with extended speed he sped towards Henry, he swung the blunt metal object into Henry's neck as he'd neared the edge of the arena.

The male was sent tumbling to the ground, as he had many times previous, he made a sound of pain as he attempted to rise from the ground on his elbows. That defying determination that had once brought Walter amusement now caused him aggravation, at this moment he'd expected the evident shatter of the last Sacrament. He brought a leg back, with a swift kick he sent into Henry's side, rolling him across the ground in his already pathetic form.

His position landed near the pool of turning blood, his eyes did not close but in his wavering consciousness from the stars of pain they switched slowly from side to side, obviously he had little thought process in his state.

Walter turned from him, walking to the edge of the rounded area, with little pressure needed he nudged it with his foot into the endless sea of crimson waters, now the other male was unarmed, and completely at his disposable. A natural smile curved onto his lips as he turned back to Henry, finally satisfied. Once again, he was attempting to rise up from the concrete and situate himself, he still wanted to try did he?

"Little use Henry," Walter spoke, putting his hands out, right loosely clutching the kitchen knife that he'd taken from a counter at the Wish House before leaving for good, or he'd thought until he realized whom he'd wanted as his first Sacrament, if the man adored the ritual enough to allow terrible punishment upon him.

He knelt down before Henry's writhing form, slipping his fingers through thin strands of brown hair before snapping them down, making a vice on the back of his head, and tilting his head to the side. Leaning over the other male he used his elbow to press painfully down on his chest to assure he didn't get away this time around.

Pressing the knife into the thin layer of skin he sliced in a curve from the pink prick he'd left earlier, he ended with a straight line, leaving a two.

Next was a one, a simple pierce and drag down of the blade and it was marked.

He could faintly hear pleas for mercy, to stop, he knew those calls all too well, they all blended in together to Mothers soft warmth, and their misunderstanding of this whole Ritual, it was for the best. He hadn't noticed he'd already completed the slash mark to symbolize what number he was marking next.

A smirk crossed over his lips as his thoughts mustered up about the markings he was cutting in.

How many times had he been practicing, over and over, writing the twenty one out of twenty one over and over on any paper they had at the Wish House.

When they forced him to attend high school, being questioned about the numbers.

He was carving them in now, Henry was the last, till Mother. Real, there, and so close.

He cut through the third number, Henry attempted to elbow him in the ribs as he cut, he frowned in frustration, flipping the knife to hold the blade, he brought it down on Henry's temple in a loud crack, dazing and confusing the man so he could finish his work.

Completing the two, he moved onto the last, undead heart pounding in excitement, he leaned down towards Henry, and whispered, "Thank you..."

He couldn't help himself with the other male, the excitement of reaching his goal brought on too many emotions he did not understand himself, so he simply acted on them. Leaning in on the side of Henry's neck that was left unscathed he pressed his lips to the skin there, slightly pricked with the lack of shaving during his being forced on the event.

It mattered not to Walter, he enjoyed every second of using him.

Repeatedly pressing and pulling back. It was a process, like everything he did.

With memorization he able to glide the knife over the skin without sight, he did not need it, he was guided by Mother. She wanted the lives of twenty one people, she could have their eternal souls for her own.

She wanted their torment, their blood, cruel carvings into once pieced together skin, splitting it to let rivulets of crimson liquid to pour down.

He finished the last line and pulled away, hand and lips, smiling down at the man in pain. He looked so empty and lost, just as Mother wanted them. Questions only she could delicately answer... Wait... This wasn't-

Henry suddenly sat up and knocked both his hands into Walter's chest, completely knocking him off and into the concrete flooring. As he fell back onto the ground, one of his guns clattered from his coat pocket landing near by him. Henry jolted up at the sight, scrambling towards it before Walter could retaliate he gathered it in his hands and was on his feat.

Blood seeped into his shirt at quick motions, but he focused. That was all he could do all this time. Concentrate, not to _feel, _but to focus on the tasks that were handed to him. Like a stupid bird with a bread crumb trail.

"Henry," Walter began, his voice fast, as if he was going to attempt to explain or reason. Most likely a distraction.

"No," He said, he shook his head, "Not anymore, no more."

He pulled the trigger, again, and again, and again. He cried out, tears spilling from his eyes.

_Cynthia. Jasper. Andrew. Richard._

He could have done something, could have ended this nightmare before she...

_This is just a dream-_

_There was this real nosy guy-_

_Scary, oh god-_

_I'm getting the hell out of here-_

She was dead along with them, and it was all his fault.

He wasn't sure how many times he'd pulled the trigger, how much of a mess the body was before him, but his vision was blurring, the world was shaking, he was tired of this. So lost without her, he didn't want this world anymore, none of this anymore, he couldn't go back to his parents, Damien and Shannon, like this.

He was too broken, beyond repair. Maybe it would have been better if Walter had just...

He fell to his knees, "Eileen." He muttered, falling down completely, a blur before him.

The last thing Walter saw was his Receiver of Wisdom closing his eyes, it didn't matter, he had the marks.

He could get him back.

Blood slipped down from his lips, to his chin and reached the dirty floor in a small puddle.

This damn bastard had no others hobbies for the day_ except _beat the living hell out him. Henry reached a hand up, wiping the offending liquid away. Stumbling into a standing position he muttered towards his opponent who, much to Henry's surprise, was seemingly waiting patiently for him to rise, he gather up saliva in his mouth and spit out any of the remaining disgusting copper taste left over, "Well," He said with a sigh, putting his arms out, "Bring it on."

No expression change, nor response, the man just raised the rusted pipe up and started towards him, Henry awaited till they had stepped before him in a rush bringing the metal down towards him, he was betting this all on luck of his actual concentration through blood loss and purpling bruises, he raised his arm up in a quick gesture towards it.

Finally, something went right.

He caught the weapon in midair, holding it with a shaky hand, pushing it back and away from doing him anymore harm.

The other did not let up, he kept trying to force forward, his whole purpose being to strike the him down.

"Richard," Both glanced up at the sound of Damien's voice, demanding and strong at his statement, "Stop, let go and leave us."

He looked back at the male that Walter had called 'Richard', lifeless gray eyes stared back at him and as if in a mocking manner, he let go suddenly, his fingers extended outwards before he dropped them to his sides and took a step back, with a shimmer he was gone.  
Henry stood there blinking, but looked at the pipe, he still had it...

A clunk sound from behind him at a distance woke him back to the situation that needed his focus, he clutched the weapon in both hands, turning towards his opposser.

He stood, one hand ruffling through the hair of a borrowed bodies hair staring to the side, but after a moment looked up smiling he spoke, "Honestly, I didn't expect it to last this long,"

"Shut the hell up!" He yelled out, to a volume this scraped at the inner of his throat, eliciting pain, and Walter didn't even flinch, "I'm sick and tired of you using all of us for your fucking games!"

He stared, his expression turned to an unamused pout on the pale face of Damien, "Henry," He said striding forward, his walk made Damien's long legs seem like the movements of a spider as he rounded about him, speaking as he walked in a circle around Henry, "I'll make you a deal... You will go to the center of sin in this world and gather red notes of the past, then once you complete this, I will let both of them go."

"You're making no sense..." He growled, maintaining a glare forward, hiding his heart that was beating quicker, trying to block out memories of the previous move Walter had done using Damien as a puppet, this was what he wanted, to still get the reaction of fear, fear that he would do it again, but then it clicked, "Both..." Henry looked at him, eyes wide, "What the hell are you saying!?"

His small smile turned into a curled grin, "You may enter now," He called over his shoulder, his voice loud and echoing off the walls. Henry awaited, not caring the proximity that the other male was standing to him, he listened as the door upstairs creaked open and closed, followed by the sound of male heal shoes stepping down each grated stair, he watched as he did, his eyes became wider, but eyebrows creased as he realized what was happening.

The copy of himself, the bloodied stained version, wore the blue coat of Sullivan with dried crimson flakes that always look to be increasing on it, the right attire for a serial killer, but nothing he wanted to see on his mirror image.

In his arms was a frail female figure, being carried with on hand under her back and the other under the crook of her knees, her head hung down, blond hair matted with drying red within it, her lightly tinged skin was riddled with cuts and bruises, crusted with the same crimson colors.

Henry clenched his teeth, shaking his head, "No..." He said in a pained voice as his copy descended the stairs.

He didn't move when Walter leaned forward, speaking in a whisper next to Henry's ear, "See this? You've left me no choice but to prove to you my determination,"

He couldn't stand hearing this in Damien's voice, that monster in soul being near him, seeing Shannon like this, he attempted to step away but was viciously grabbed and shoved to be close to Damien's chest, "Don't try to run away from what you've caused,"

The copy had entered the same area as them, standing forward, as if displaying Shannon's beaten body, he could still see her breathing...

"It just proves that's all you're worth," Walter spoke with venom, hissing against Henry's hair, "Running away..."

He struggled out of the vice hold that the male had on him and rushed forward, "Shannon!" He yelled, he didn't care if the thing looked like him, he was going to beat the hell out it! Raising up on fist, he brought it in the direction of their jaw, but when his fist didn't connect, when no one moved, he felt his heart leap.

He stumbled to the floor and crashed into the stairs behind the two, hissing between his teeth he looked back up in a wince. They were still standing in the same place, they hadn't moved even an inch.

"What..." He muttered looking from side to side as if he'd find a circus trick that had caused this.

Walter strode forward, both of his hands in the black coat until he reached next to the clone, he smiled at it and put his hand out, gliding it through where their cheek would be, his hand went through, "You could call this something like a spirit passing through," As he walked forward he only seemed larger, more threatening, normally becoming black hair and pale skin with contrasting ever knowing green eyes only made him the appearance of a ghastly creature, taking on human appearances, in ways, it made sense.

"They are only appearing here like this so you can see them," From behind him Henry could see his copy stepping away, slowly and carefully, concentrating on each step, slowly he dissipated from sight, unlike the attacker earlier it was a diminishing process, he whispered a tearful 'No', he had hopes he could do _something_ for her, instead she in the grasps of that _thing, _in a sorry and pathetic state.

His wrist was grabbed and he was pulled up into a standing position, Henry pulled away from him instantly, trying to maintain anger but at the thought of all this he put his hands to his face, leaning against a wall, "You...Sick bastard!" He shook his head violently, he could feel it dwindling, that precious sanity that he'd held onto ever since Walter had first attacked him in the art exhibit at the restaurant, "What the hell have you done!"

He felt Walter approach him, his hands placed on either sides of the rusting wall, "Because, you don't belong here, not in this filthy ruined world, you belong with Mother and I... And... Miss Galvin is waiting for you. It's so sad how she clings to your image, the bloodied doll version, helping him as you helped her, but failed... Do you really want her to suffer?"

He held still against the wall, he couldn't think, couldn't breath.

So suffocating, this world, this monster that stole the looks of a friend.

He felt Walter place a light kiss against his temple, practically not there, but he was unable to ignore the disgust, he stepped back, "You will agree to my deal Henry," Walter said.

Finally, Henry looked up past his hands, deep green eyes past glass lowered to a gaze, reading him, a frown that belayed a stern expression, "There is no other option now,"

He turned, walking in the direction that the image and Shannon had disappeared to, it became obvious his direction was of the door, "Well," He said, "Don't you want your supposed companions?"

He opened the door, swinging it open and allowing it to shut behind him.

Henry stood still for a bit, trying to pick up the broken pieces of his sanity, but there was no time for that. He pushed off the wall.

_No more time for myself._

With hands clenched into fists, pressing into the soft skin of his palms, he advanced towards the door.

_Not trying to run anymore._

He grabbed the handle, opening the door.

_Or trying to play as the victim and hero._

Walking into the outside he found himself on a concrete ledge, across from him was a sight he wasn't sure how to determine a proper reaction for.

Walter stood at the edge, his looks returned, long waved hair, blue coat, and all, in his arms just as the clone had carried Shannon, he held Damien in unconsciousness, looking almost as if he was sleeping.

Like he was having a nightmare.

"Return to the home you share with the man and woman," Walter called to him, "There, you will find your answers of where to find us."

"No..." Henry said, stepping towards them, suddenly though, he felt extraordinarily dizzy... Everything was going into a blue, taking on only mixes of colors, sounds slurring together, he felt his legs give out underneath him, and the last thing he saw was the blur of gray from concrete.

Something was...Different...

No, not just different, wrong, very wrong. So then...

_'Why can't I remember?'_

Damien groaned, he was lying on something stiff... God, it was a mattress but the non comfort factor gave away that it was not his... With a groan, he lifted himself up, not bothering to open his eyes until he was in a hunched sitting position, he lifted only his head as his weary deep green eyes scanned the area he was in. Nothing but black... The floors, the walls, everything visible: Black.

There were no decoration, nor were there any indications of how far the place went on, "Geeze I like noir as much as the next guy but this is ridiculous..."

Why the hell did he have to use humor in bad situations... He placed his feet to the ground, standing himself up. He put his hands on his lower back arching forward to get out any kinks in his back, "Not any better..." He said to himself with a slight pout.

He turned round to look at the bed he'd been placed in by anonymous, "No wonder..." He said with wide eyes, the bed was miniscule, a size for a child, his stick like tall figure didn't fit whatsoever, to make matters more understandable the bed displayed shows of being old and overused. Not even suitable for one who could sleep in it.

His attention was drawn away from the tattered bed to small clicking noises he could hear in the distance, he angle his head up, he could tell what direction it was coming from. He frowned looking down at the sleeping place, it was the only area he knew so far...

"Hell..." He muttered turning from it and trudged on, he kept on. He began to doubt investigating the noise was his best plan, as he quickened his pace he only found the dark corridors with no turns nor corners continue on without mercy.

"Ah man..." He turned around looking to each direction, pulling a hand through his thin strands of hair, "What have I gotten myself into? Hm..."

The click again... From behind him, he turned to that portion, he nearly jumped out of his skin when three figures small figures invaded his sight. So this was the source of the sound? So not to alert the little ones, he approached them gradually glancing over a red haired little girl to see that they were building blocks. A familiar game that he couldn't remember the name of for the life of him...

There were five of them sitting on their knees round the silver bag with wooden rectangle blocks spilled out, while only a boy picked them up and carefully placed them on one another, creating a tower that, for the game, was suppose to stay up once the players began pulling the pieces out.

The small boys bright green eyes were fixed on it, his dishwater blond hair was in a bowl cut, his bangs obscuring his view slightly. He glanced at the other four, two boys and two girls.

One of the boys was a blond with and no bangs in a green shirt and jeans, the second had his hair brunette hair grown out too much, past his eyes.

Of the girls, one was a fire tinged red head with freckles adorning her pale face and her counterpart was a a brunette in a blue overall dress and a powder blue tank top underneath.

All of their hands lye on the ground, shoulders slumped and heads angled down.

He looked back to the only one moving, in little time he noticed one piece was off, it would wreck the whole game the way it was turned, "Hey," He said stepping forward, the boy looked up at him, beyond Damien's expectencies he wasn't surprised nor frightened by the adults sudden appearance, looked as if he knew he'd be there.

Perhaps he did.

Perhaps this was all one convoluded dream world.

He gulped as the child gave him a look to continue, much to adult for his age, "Uh you..." He smiled big, he was never good with kids, scared most of them anyways with his looks, "The piece is in the wrong place, it'll fall over if you try to build anymore."

The boy continued his gaze on Damien for a moment before angling his head down at the blocks before looking back up, "Will you show me how to fix it?"

He blinked, this wasn't the time nor place to playing games but... He smiled again, walking round the motionless children, kneeling down next to the one whom asked, "Sure," Damien said, he took the edge of the rectangle between his index finger and thumb, and merely moved it from the edge, straightening it.

The boy stared at it, tilted his head at it, and finally with childish curiosity looked up, "That was all it took?"  
"Well ya," Damien said shrugging, looking up with a smile, "One small thing can cause things to break," He picked a block up and put it on the top, the last one, "And one small thing can fix everything,"

He stared up at Damien, "You're weird..." He said turning back, pulling a block away. The tower stayed okay.

"What?!" He retorted, sounding hurt by the comment, he sat with his knees up to his chest, looking the other way in a fake glare, "I was just trying to be philosophical..."

"You wanna play?" The young boy asked, ignoring his whining.

"Um..." He said surprised, sitting back up, looking at the other children, they looked like more of dolls than living beings, "Sure but...What about your friends?"

"They can't play," He said gesturing to the blocks, "It's your turn."

"Okay..." He sighed, this was one whacked out dream, was his subconscious trying to deal with some childhood trauma he didn't know about?

The piece came out safely, he hadn't even shaken the building, "Phew," He said with a smirk, but it was the beginning of the game, he had a bad habit of getting ahead of himself, as the other carefully pulled the piece out he decided to ask him some questions, try to figure out who the child was, "So, who're your friends?"

He looked up when he finished and pointed at the first boy, the blond, "That's Bob," The second boy, "This is John," The first girl, "Anne," And the third, "And this is Eileen."

Eileen? That name sounded oddly familiar... Too familiar in fact.

Of course it did, he was dreaming.

"Terrence couldn't make it though..." He muttered as Damien safely, with the pieces shaking a bit and having a close call, got another piece.

"And whys that?" He inquired softly, trying to speak correctly to the child as Shannon taught him with kids. They weren't adults, but they weren't stupid.

"This isn't the right time, I haven't met him..." He muttered, "It's starting to fall..."

"One of us has to lose eventually," He said with a laugh, wriggling his block slightly, using the tricks that his brother tried to use when they played, it was slightly about strategy.

Then he remembered he was playing, still, against a little kid.

"No," The boy said simply, taking a piece out easily, "You can't win, you're only a block in the game..."

Damien listened, his eyes widened as he looked up, "What..."

"Only Henry or my older self can win, it all matters on who lets the tower fall... It's like..." He began using the pieces he collected in a pile of saves to make a small stack, "With each person my older self kills he's taking a block, and with each time Henry does something right, he takes a block, but Henry keeps almost tipping the tower over, and every time my older self thinks it's going to fall, but...It doesn't," He placed the last one of his on top and reached for Damien's pile, continuing to make a small building, "They almost finished the game too though but,"

He smiled lightly, "They forgot whose turn it was, and they both made the tower fall," His green gaze met Damien's own wide one, "That isn't a fair game is it? Not if both people lose and win. So they had to start over, from scratch but... You remember what you said about that piece? That's what happened, there was a part that was off...It's bad for both of them."

Damien gulped down a lump in his throat, "You're a child...Why are you talking like this?"

He smiled, "I'm not a kid." He reached forward, taking two of the blocks on the actual tower in both his hands, "These blocks are you and Shannon."

"Why are all of the kids like this...It's not because they're..." He croaked out, terrified of the answer.

The child smiled, "Dead." He answered, jerking both his hands and with the blocks knocking the whole tower over.

With no rhyme nor reason the whole black area, the children, they were all gone.

Nothing transitioned, he breathed in and out in fear, standing up off the ground. He was in a city, with snow filled streets... He recognized these images... Henry's pictures, it was Silent Hill...

"I can't believe you plan on leaving..." He heard a female grumble, he looked to the side seeing three teenagers in Winter clothing stepping down the street, they looked similar to... "To those kids..."

In the middle a boy with long wavy lightly tinged hair, looking from the two, the other male had a similar amount of length of hair but the thick brown hair was caught in his face, the only female with them was a pale girl with freckles covering the line of her nose and cheeks, her red hair reached all the way down to her lower back, but the frazzled ends showed gave sings that this long hair was not for show but because no one taking care of the children had bothered with haircuts.

They all approached his spot of standing, he was about to instinctevely step out of the way but with the line of three he wasn't able to, he gasped as a sharp freezing sensation passed through him, the male in the middle walked...Through him.

He looked up and down at himself, before back at the teens. This was one weird... Could it really be a dream?

"If I'm going to wake Mom up then I'm going to need to get the things I properly need for helping her," The middle male said, shaking his head, "It's the only way,"

"Just leave him Anne," The brunette said crossing his arms behind his head.

"Terrence!" She said bringing her fists up, offended by his comment.

"Look if Walter wants to go all by himself like a big boy into the Nation of Sin then let him," He said, his voice belaying how simple he felt the whole thing was.

"Nation of Sin?" Damien repeated confused.

The other two looked down towards the ground, disappointment in their expressions, he smirked, and turned towards them, pointing, "But not without his best buds right?"

Both of them smiled, "Knew you wouldn't let me down!" Anne said hoping once.

Damien followed along, what was he seeing here? The dream assumption was getting smaller and smaller.

"I don't know guys," He said shaking his head, "Shouldn't I be doing this on my own?"

"Where does it say in our Scriptures that you have to leave?" Anne argued with a big smirk at her intelligent response.

"I guess..." He said scratching the back of his head.

"And anyways," Terrance said marching backwards, "How are we all suppose to want to have you cleanse the Nation of Sin if we don't get it?"

"Ya, we need to all see it first hand!" Anne commented, "We're your henchmen, we both want to meet your mom anyways,"

"I can tell people I know the son of God!" Terrance said raising his hand high in the air, both of them laughed at him.

Walter cut off suddenly though, "I dunno if we should joke about Mom like that though..."

"We're joking about _you_ not _her_," Terrance said bringing him into a headlock in the crook of his arm.

The good mood the three had found themselves in whilst buying the things they were assigned to as three boys stood from under a building in their way, "Hey," One said with a sneer, "Aren't you some of those bible kids?"

The three glared, "Don't speak to us," Anne said with a sigh, "C'mon, let's go."

Their group walked around them but as they did one of the boys grabbed Anne's arm, "Whoa cutie bible girl, where do you think you're going?"

"Letting me go you filthy piece of trash!" She said throwing her arm down and back up.

Terrance stepped in front of her, glaring at them, "You come from a land without care nor kindness, all of you are disgusting and the Holy Mother will reject you in the Gates of Paradise,"

"Get away you psycho!" The leader yelled shoving him back.

One of the boys behind them picked up a lose rock on the ground, chucking it what was meant to be in Terrance's way but missed by only a bit hitting Anne in the side of the head, with a grunt she turned, placing her palms against both sides as pain delved in.

Damien gasped, stepping back, Walter and Terrance looked at the two, quickly they became enraged glares, Anne knelt on the ground picking up the rock. With hatred in her bright eyes, she stepped back before chucking it in the males direction. It hit him square in forehead knocking him back with a loud cry.

The leader growled, turning his head their direction, "That's it! You're all gonna get it!"

Before any reaction could be brought on from this turn of events his sight of the town changed, directly in his view was a wood paneled wall, he examined it but turned to see where he was, in a candle lit room sat a man at a desk, his chin resting against his propped up hands.

The outfit he wore... A white robe with a hood, long and down partly his back. It was clear now, Damien frowned as he glanced around the barren wooden room, "This is an occult..." He muttered.

The man sighed, sitting up looking at the three teenagers, they were were all scuffed with scrapes and cuts, their clothes messed up along with their already ruined hair.

"I'm disappointed," He said, glaring at them, "In all of you. Especially you Walter, how would the Holy Mother feel about you reacting to the Sinners in their barbaric manners?"

"Sir-," Walter attempted stepping forward.

"No," He put his hand up, interrupting any sorts of arguments Walter could muster about the incident, "Even as you are chosen by the Holy Mother you will not have special treatment, neither will your companions. Since you all chose to act like children you will be treated as such, Father Redcliff will be escorting you,"

They stood quietly, their heads hung down as he shuffled some papers on his desk. They turned and began out the door, he turned to follow them, though, the moment he acted on this the scene had changed. It was daylight inside of a living room of a large house. Small children and only one teenager, he recognized as the one named Walter, all sat at tables and on the ground reading.

Damien noted that the boy and girl that were normally with him were not present.

An elder male with long white hair sat in a chair before them, sometimes a child would stand up and walk towards him, he'd smile and look at the book they held, the child would point at something and he would answer with a word beyond their vocabulary.

So he was helping them with reading... Something...

A female walked into the room, the long dress that all of the female adults in this place were seen wearing, glided into the room, her bare feet lightly touching the floor as she walked around the children whom chose a place on the floor, a few of them would bade her a 'Good morning Sister Eve,' and she would respond with the greeting.

She stepped beside the table Walter sat at, awaiting for him to notice her presence, when he did, she tilted her head, speaking in a soft tone using words normally intended only for children, "Walter dear, do you have any clue how long Anne and Terrance have been gone?"

He looked down thinking for a moment, lifting his hand and dropping, "More than an hour I'm guessing."

"Strange..." She said pacing from side to side, "They should have returned by now, it was a simple shopping trip. Since you all seem to be close, do you believe you could locate them?"

There was something clearly condescending in that sentence, but the male still pushed himself up standing, "I'll go get my coat."

The scene changed in a sudden shift, Damien was standing back in the snow covered city again, the temperature never affecting him. The long haired boy was walking along with his hands shoved in his pockets as he would look round every once in a while and sigh, as Damien followed him he muttered, "Where are they..."

His shoes crunched in the snow, he stopped suddenly, Damien glanced at him from the front, with his shoulders hunched he just sneezed, reflexively Damien said, "Bless you," Though he knew he wouldn't be heard.

Taking a breath in, his head was angled to the ground, he stayed like that, Damien, confused looked towards the snow. Displacing the normally white shaded ice was a droplet of red, he took a step back, lifting his foot, there was a large puddle there, smeared underneath the shoe.

He looked down the alleyway, green eyes wide, he turned and swiftly began down it.

"Oh no..." Damien said, shaking his head as he stayed behind the young teenager.

There were smearing of red within the snow displacing it, the walls received the same treatment in certain places along the way, it gave it a look of a messy painter with watered down utensils, just attempting to bring their image to life and as it thickened it belayed the anger of the painter unable to perfect their image.

They were near the end and in his dismay, near this point they could both see it. Two figures, lying motionless in the snow.

"Anne... Terrance?" He questioned loudly as he approached them, it quickly became a run that forced him to drop to his knees before the two as he'd reached them.

"God..." Damien felt bile rising up in his throat as he kept himself up against the wall, covering his mouth. Shades of thick bleeding rouge underneath their bodies.

"Wake up..." Walter said shaking Anne and Terrance by their arms, Damien looked past his offending hand at the scene, he stepped forward in grotesque curiosity, from underneath them, to the walls and out was a cross from the Christian faith, drawn in the snow with lines of the blood from the two within it.

"They're dead..." Damien said, out loud, he could pinpoint why, but he was trying to reach tell him, "Stop it..." He muttered, hanging his head down.

"Dammit guys don't play around like this!" The boy shouted, it was then that Damien truly saw the ignorance, the true denile these kids were put through. He had flipped over the two from their spots on the ground, he let in a painful gasp, freezing as he saw them.

Lifeless.

Their mouths open ever so slightly, frozen blood against their paled faces, hair mussed, and their eyes... Nothingness, fading color and wide, the only thing they still held was shows of fear and confusion, he stood up, jaw hanging open as he could only repeat that gasp, walking backwards, his back hit the wall that Damien himself was leaning against.

"Enough."

Everything went black, the wall behind him being gone caused him to stumble before catching himself. He looked up at the one whom spoken and instantly recognized them...

The adult version of the teen that was the torment of Henry's life, Walter Sullivan.

"You..." He said, putting a hand out in the direction the boy was in, "That was... _You_?"

"Yes," He answered, his lowered head and frown told Damien in and instance that he was not on good terms with the things that were shown.

"Jesus Lord..." He covered his face, hunching his shoulders, how in the hell was that _him_.

"That night," Walter spoke walking towards him, "I was suspected for the murders of Anne and Terrance when I returned to the Wish House with officers escorting me. I left there then, knowing that Mother really had wanted me to complete my duties on my own..."

"I have no idea..." He almost completed the sentence but broke off in a laugh, "What the hell do you care?" He looked up, breathing through his nose as he stood close and across from a serial killer, "Why did I see all that?"

"I did not will you to see my own memories," He responded, staring at Damien from his peripheral vision, "As you and I share the same mind both conscious and sub, it gives access into such private things,"

"Sharing... What?" Damien said, his eyes widened, "What did you do to me..."

Walter was suddenly smiling, he tilted his head, "As I've explained to Henry, it was just an amount of possession,"

Damien ground his teeth together in frustration, "How the hell am I suppose to believe that!?"

He stepped forward, closer, Damien took a step back away from him, but it was only pursued it, "Because you're here, because you saw those things, because... I know have a bit about you too."

"No," He said shaking his head, shutting his eyes, trying to block this out, "It could be a dream, I could be dreaming,"

He actually heard the psycho laugh at his statement, "Dream? The last person I heard the excuse from is now dead," When Damien opened his eyes they were face to face, "Because I killed her."  
He jumped backwards, trying anything to get away, but there was nowhere to go, "J-Just stay away from me..."

"How does it feel knowing I am using your appearance and voice to Henry, tricking and upsetting him?"

"I..." He didn't understand, couldn't, not any of this.

"If you're so interested in my past," He lifted his hand with a grin, "You should be able to see the more _interesting_ portions."

He grabbed him around the forehead, covering his eyes, and as sights of blood and suffering entered into his vision, Damien couldn't help but scream.

**Look. I posted. Yay.**


	9. No more choices

**I didn't expect to use the OC's so much, especially the ones in this chapter, she wasn't suppose to actually ever appear in this again, but she kind of just did. So...Henry's little fangirl. You can consider her that.**

**Hope you can even understand what she's saying...**

"Hey...Hey...Hey!"

Henry groaned as he felt insistent jabbing at his forehead, rising a hand he attempted to swipe the offender away. Something heavy -Was it a book?- Was in his lap to top it off.

Like the cherry on the ice cream right...

"Ah! 'ey, what'chya be doin' tryin' to hit someone tryin' to help ya!"

He recognized that strong accent implacable, slowly, he opened his eyes, lifting his head up, he came to catch sight of Hydie, the young girl he'd met in the coffee shop on the day that...

He'd rather not recall that...

She was wearing a buttoned up black coat, ruffled at the bottom, that contrasted her blond hair, for the freezing weather. She frowned down at him, tilting her head to the side, "Wow twen'y one, you can really sleep huh?"

"Ugh... Please don't call me that..." He muttered, leaning forward, holding the side of his head in his hand he began glancing around, he was in a park, people walked along the concrete paths and played in the grass with loved ones and pets, he himself, was sat upon a bench, "Where... Am I?" He inquired to nothing or no one in particular.

"A park, duh," Hydie said the rounded 'A's, her lids dropping down to show how she viewed his intelligence at the moment.

"No, I understand that..." He said with a sigh, standing from the bench, picking the book up as he did, after examining it-No cover picture, no title- looking from side to side, "What park, where?"

"South Ashfield," She answered blinking in curiosity, having to lift her head up to look at him with her height compared to him, "On Rhodes street."

"Rhodes street," He said in a distant voice, he shook his head, "God, I don't know how to get to their house from here..."

"Well," Hydie said putting her arms out in excitement, "As a kid in this town, I ge' around a lo'! I coul' help ya get ta' where ya need!"

He rubbed the back of his head, all the while he spoke she was giving him a strange look, eyes widening in what seemed amazement, "Well I... I guess that would be helpful, but where are your parents? I'm sure they wouldn't want you wandering off-,"

"'Ey, wha's that!" She suddenly threw her arm up and pointed in a direction over his shoulder. He, of course, turned towards the portion of the sky she was calling attention to. However, there was nothing there.

"I don't see what you're..." He looked down at her to only catch the girl extraordinarily close, standing up on the toes of her snow shoes hands clenched in fists up to her chin, she made a noise of excitement as she did.

"Ah wow, I didn' think' I'd actually ge' the chance ta' see those marks this close!" She exclaimed eyes bright. He didn't understand what her happiness was centering from, until he felt the cold Winter wind hit the bareness of his neck.

Gasping, he slapped his hand over the skin there, they were in sight, the numbers could clearly be seen! That reminded him... Damien and Shannon... Ah fuck... His head lowered, Hydie brought one of her hands in to his view shaking it in order to retrieve his attention, "Yo, Mr. Twen'y One! It wasn' tha' bad tha' I saw them, huh?"

He shook his head slowly, he couldn't even have someone direct him, "Look Hydie, I'll find my way myself, no need to worry about it," He turned from her, trudging down the sidewalk.

"Gah? Wha, afte' I kept an eye on ya fo' tha' guy and gave ya tha' book!"

He halted on the path, caught by what she said and suddenly recognized that he was in fact carrying a book he had no idea it was, he turned, his heart rate speeding up as he backtracked towards her, "Wait, what do you mean? What man?"

" I 'unno hi' name, bu' he sai' that ta' leave the book with you an' if I coul' watch over ya until you wo'k up," She said shrugging.

"Hydie," He said rushing at her, putting his hands on her tiny shoulders, "This is very important, what did he look like?"

"Uh ah," She was taken back by the seriousness of the matter that Henry was displaying, she scratched the side of her head in thought, "Well, ah, lon' blond 'air, lon' blue coat," She gestured down herself to symbolize it, "Tan pan's an' uh..."

"No..." He said stepping back from her, covering his face with hands, "That's...That's enough..."

So Walter had left him with Hydie, fully knowing they knew each other. Of course he did. Distant words echoed too far for him to hear, something that explained how he did. If only he could reach them, it sickened him, the thought of Walter talking to a child, he'd read those articles, scanned through, his eyes catching little details, he was caught after the murders of Miram and Billy Locane, even younger then this little teen.

Something clicked, no matter how it sounded, this must have been what was running through Walters sick mind...

Why take the child? He had enough hostages that actually_ mattered, _he'd only met Hydie at a cafe, that was all, she didn't have any true connections or meaning to herself. This made him curious, "Hydie, what did he say to you?"

"Huh? Well uh..." She didn't get what the 411 was about... "I recogni'ed you an' mentioned it ou' loud, he as'ed me 'bout it an' o' course I tol' im I met ya at a cafe, _he _seemed pleased abou' me callen' ya 'Twen'y One'," She crossed her arms, glaring up at Henry, "Unli'e someone I know...Anyways, he sai' somethin' about bein' a good child withou' ignorance or somethin', he was nice, and if I'd be a goo' girl an' wa'ch over ya."

"Anything else?" Henry asked, pushing her on.

"Well when he was leavin' he sai' that," She straightened her posture and deepened her voice in a copying tone, "'True innocence not masked by the stains of the world would be spared,'" She smiled as she returned to her relaxed pose, "He was weir'."

He couldn't agree more... So, Hydie was okay, he really didn't want her, he didn't like the idea of him talking to her about his damned Ritual or whatever it was, but he had to focus on the thought of Damien and Shannon, Walter had left his control of Damien behind and had both of them, one unconscious, one knocked into submission and bleeding.

It stung to think about.

"Alright Hydie, will you help me get to my friends house?" He asked softly, giving into defeat.

"Yes sir!" She said in her excitement she threw a salute up before skipping down the sidewalk, avoiding any cracks or crevasses she found in the cement purposely, "Don' know why tha' changed yo' mind, bu' it's good fo' me!"

"Right, well the address is 3131 King road," He told her, walking up next to the girl, "Hey, I noticed when you copied him, your accent was gone."

She glanced slowly to the side, preferring the sight of the gravel on the road then looking up past her hair, "I ah...Well, I kinda have li'ed here lon' enough to figure ou' you' guys kind o' talk, bu'..." She sighed, "It ma'es me thin' of my paren's when I tal' like this...They always sai' ne'er forget where ya came from..." She laughed, it broke off quickly, "They... Lef' this life in a ca' crash..."

His eyes widened, staring down at the small teen. 'Left this life.'

She was a parent-less, "Who...Who do you live with then?"

"My uncle," Once again most of the words included an 'Ah' sound in the middle, rather than the sharp ways he noticed everyone spoke compared to her-Deep Southern? He couldn't pin point it...- "He owns apar'ment complexes, so does hi' gran'pa. He doe'nt really care if I do anythin' 'roun' the city, so lon' as I stay ou' of trouble an' finish my homework..."

"I...I'm sorry..." He said practically in a whisper, looking away from her, just like she wouldn't spare him a glance as she spoke of her own story. He couldn't think of anything else to respond with.

"Don' say tha', I hate those words." Her last statement went completely without the accent, into a perfect English voice, as if it would help him comprehend them better, she smiled however, head tilting upwards, "We're almos' there," She said.

He looked up himself, recognizing the line of houses from the first time he'd been driven to stay with Damien and Shannon.

When he first brought them into this mess.

"That's the one," He said solemnly, seeing the neatly cut bushes, the walk way, white house. White. The color of purity...

_'Pure...' A hand reaching towards him, fingertips lightly gliding his shirt._

He gasped, bending over slightly, grasping his stomach tightly, feeling as though vomit was rising, ready to be released, but he held it, just stumbling back a little groaning against the pain.

"Yo!" Hydie said stepping in front of him, her arms out in alarm, "You 'kay Twen'y one?"

He slowly looked up, trying to focus on something in distance to try to completely ignore the sudden sickness. A memory?

"Please...Please, don't call me that..." He said standing up slightly, beginning to walk forward best he could, "Henry, just Henry..."

She switched footing, her glance down belayed her nervousness, "Henry." She repeated as he began forward best he could past her. For a passing time she still stood on that part of the sidewalk, staring off in a flabbergasted way, "All righ'...Henry..."

With that, he turned his head back towards their destination, in that moment he felt stings a mixture of stinging emotions coursing through him.

They all formed into one single understandable feeling: Regret.

The door to their house stood open, as if welcoming him in the sickest way possible, "Wait out here..." He said with his arm out to her, his voice practically in a whisper.

"Wha'?" She demanded throwing her own up and slapping them back to her sides with a betrayed look upon her face.

"Just..." He said turning his head slightly as he ran up to the house, "Please, just stay out here!"

He checked the door, and as he suspected, found it unlocked. He pushed open the door, stepping inside, not bothering to close it behind him once he entered inside. Silence ruled the house, his breathing had been disrupted and slowed to nothing as he viewed the disarray the house had been left in.

Henry stumbled forward, eyes traveling over the destruction. Dried blood clumped and stuck to the walls and carpet, marking the white beauty a mess of unsurity of any happiness happening once in this household.

Henry grasped his hand against his mouth, a shuddered breath made its way through his lungs.

Shannon's deeply cut body, her lightly colored clothes, hair, skin, all ruined by wounds and as he paced through the house-feeling more and more ill- the left over marks from her attack remained.

"Oh god..." He said, leaning against the wall near the computer where square plastic letters from the keyboard lay scattered across the floor.

"Wha' happen' in here?" He heard a thickly accented female voice say from the doorway.

His hand flew from his eyes to his side as he marched towards Hydie, whom was glancing around in a sickly intrigued manner, slightly aggravated by her inability to listen to what people told her, she really was a child... "Hydie, what did I say?"

Her shoulders raised and blue eyes flew wide once the slight scolding began, "Ah I... You we' gone fo' so lon'...I go' worried an'...Wan'ed to check on ya..."

"I don't want you to see any of this..." He said deeply, but softened his volume not wanting to frighten the kid.

She had looked away from him, the guilt didn't last as long as he wanted, her gaze had lingered to the side and turned to curiosity, "Hey...Was' tha'?"

For a moment he thought this was only one of her distractions to get the blame of her mistake off of herself, but once he humored her by looking up into the kitchen he saw what she was referencing.

A slip of red paper, barley larger than a sticky note was stuck against the wall near where a table use to stand up right next to the windows.

He rushed over standing in front of the wall before and squinting his eyes to pear at the messy black letters.

_'Return to the Home of Judgment_

_Of Sinners_

_To Redeem_

_Your innocence'_

"Ey!" Hydie called to him, stamping her foot, she crossed her arms over her chest, trying to keep her distance and stay in the place she was to respect Henry's wishes at least a bit..."Was' it say?"

Her noisiness woke him from the utter anger and confusion the note left him in. What was he talking about?

"Home of Judgment?" He repeated tilting his head, just as he finished his sentence with curiosity the window near the door way suddenly burst open, allowing a gust of wind. They both put an arm up as if in protection from the automatic push.

There was a rustle of paper behind the wall of the kitchen and as it swept through, Henry witnessed a large crinkled and worn out piece flutter from the side table close by the computer desk to the ground before his feet.

Abruptly, just as it began, the whole thing ended, Hydie to a quick double take around the room, her jaw dropped open, "Gosh, ya jus' don' know wha' ta' e'pect when it comes ta' weather!"

Henry however, was paying no attention to the words she used to comment on that gust. He knelt down folding his fingers and pressing his thumb to opposite portions of it and lifting it up into both his hands, first he got the immediate reaction that it was a map. The streets and symbols directing one to where they needed to be and avoid embarrassing situations of getting lost in a place of unfamiliarity.

It was the name that his eyes trailed up to that caught him.

Silent Hill.

Through blurred eyes of a bright day, clean sidewalks, and faint sounds of conversations, through the vision of a small screen he could see something metal, he couldn't quite make it out... There was a flash.

"Huh!" His eyes wrenched up from the map, he distantly heard Hydie ask if anything was wrong but he was distracted by his thoughts. More memories?

He grit his teeth, at the moment, he knew one thing, Walter had two people whom had done nothing but offer kindness to someone shattered like him and attempted to help him find the pieces. One thing stood out to him the most, "I'm not going to make it out of his alive am I?" He murmured to himself incoherently.

"Wha' was that?" Hydie asked him.

Turning around he walked towards the staricase, "Hydie, can I ask another favor from you?" He said as he began up the stairs.

"Um well..." She said, taking this as a beckoning to follow him, "What'chya need fro' me?"

First he stopped by his own room, hurrying in and grabbing the backpack he'd started out with from off the top of the bed and out of there in a few seconds, Hydie had reached the second floor like him by that time.

He was quiet whilst they reached the room at the end of the hall, Shannon's, she stopped at the doorway while he approached the drawer next to her bed. Opening in he shuffled all of the useless stuff out of the way. It was a cover anyways. Underneath it all, he caught a glimpse of metal. Exactly what he needed.

The gun. She told him if ever there was a situation that was beyond his control if he was alone, then to use it. There were bullet packs hidden inside casset tape boxes. Much too bad last time he couldn't get their attention much less use a gun on Sullivan.

Not like they did him any damn good in the Subway...

He didn't want the child to see what he had however, so he slung it around to his front, unzipping the second largest pocket and stuffed it away in the pack.

He began out of the room, slipping past Hydie who had an offly annoyed expression on her face, he brushed off the sound of her childish stomping from behind him, once again, when he entered Damien's room she stopped at the doorway.

She seemed wary to enter rooms unless with a large reason. He didn't know the exact amount of time that Walter had stolen Damien's mind and body for but he knew one thing was for certain -There it was, on the dresser- Walter had absolutely no use for Damien's cell phone.

He walked up to her and after a regarding look, he held his hand out with the phone in it, "If you could, I'm going to need someone to relay me information... Do you have a computer and internet at home?"

The look she gave him portrayed an absolutely betrayed soul, "Wha-Wha... What?" She cried out, "You've got to be kidding-" She slapped a hand over her mouth to stop the pronounced words. It seemed she didn't have as much concentration for it when it came to anger, "Can' I com' wit'? I coul' be a bi' hel-,"

"No Hydie," Henry said firmly, shaking his head, "If you want to help in anyways than please," He held it out further, "Do this..."

She made an aggravated growling sound, "Fine!" She yelled out, snatching it out of his hand.

He smiled calmly, "Thank you," But he changed after that, returning to his original thoughts, reversing his trail he began down the stairs, "Now, what I'll need you to do first is call the police, wait for them or go back to your house, its not to far is it?" He ignored as she repeated 'Borin'' over and over from behind him, tilting her head from left to right.

"Ya, ya, is no' fa' don' worry boss," She put her hand up in a lazy salute.

"Thank you Hydie." Henry said once again with a large sigh, he didn't want to get the kid mixed up with all of this, but she wasn't taking it seriously what-so-ever. Ignorance is bliss. He pulled open the drawer where...Where Damien kept his heart failure pills...The bottle rattled inside, the small pills making loud chicking sounds as they hit each other.

He frowned deeply as he caught sight of the mix of names. Damien Galvin.

Eileen...

Whoever she was, he missed her.

Desperately he felt the need to have someone tell him everything was going to be okay...

Shaking these thoughts off, he snatched the spare car key up, pausing for a moment, he had the quick thought, 'He might need them...' So he grabbed the bottle along with it...

Hydie trudged behind him, "So do you understand everything?" He questioned.

"Ya, ya, ca' the Po Po, they do they're li'le investiation' whi' I play girl genius on the compu'er."

Was...Was she referencing various cartoons?

"Ya, let's go with it like that," He sighed shaking his head, and glanced down at her, she was glaring off to the side, "Hydie-,"

"Say than'k you' once mo'e, an' I migh' vomi'," She definitely was an everyday teenager.

"All right," He said nodding, and turned around, "Bye kid."

"Later adul'," She responded.

This actually made him snicker, but this dissipated as he neared the automobile, unlocking the drivers side, and climbing inside. He tossed the bag in the passengers side, Hydie sat on the steps to the house, the phone up to her ear and ignoring him.

Still probably fussing over being left behind.

He took the wheel into his hands, and pulled out from the spot and without further glances at the small blonde, began down the road. He considered mental preparations. Breathing exercises. And how insane he truly was. He would take a glance at the map till he found the highway he first had to take to make his way to Silent Hill, but slowly as he drove, leaving the sun behind while it sunk behind the mountains, the map became more of a reminder of what he had to complete rather then his directions to the town.

Henry found himself recognizing each and every road sign, certain landmarks, distant feelings welled up inside him all the way, things he should know and look back on whether it be in disdain or with a nostalgic smile.

All he knew is that he'd rather not get a sense of happiness gazing upon the sign displaying the next left to 'Old Silent Hill', no other cars accompanying him at this point. Happiness was replaced with what was happening at that very moment.

He was utterly alone.


	10. Silent Hill

**According to a bot on here, I'm too 'retarded' to live ;P What is your guyses opinion on this~? (Look at the comments on chapter 1 if you'd like~!)**

Seeing wasn't an option it seemed.

As he had drove, the crowded roads of the city proved themselves to be a bother to his easily agitateable nerves at the moment. Even so...As the streets cleared slowly but surley from the gas guzzling trucks displaying their brand names or small cars that zipped by, attempting to display dominance over their companion vehicles as small canines do to their larger counterparts.

He soon came to regret the short amounts of disdain toward the other drivers when he found the sound of the car he was driving the only sound on the pavement rather then the mix of noises that signified not only artificial, but real life.

Henry considered the difference between himself and the drivers he had left behind. Compare and contrast. They all had a set destination, somewhere to be that usually prevented them from pausing for the rest of the world, a car left at the side of the road, for the gods knows how long, could go ignored for hours on end before someone stops, and why do they pass them by. Because they know that the can't, there's just certain factors that play in. Perhaps they're going to be late if they stop, they are unable to merge lanes to get there, by the time they saw the it would be too late to even get close to them. Or perhaps, they just do not care about others situation, others suffering.

Their situation, is all that mattered.

He didn't consider himself to be a philosophical person. He just had so much damn time to think. As he approached the outskirts of Old Silent Hill he saw a large gate barricading his way through, softly muttering a swear to himself, he neared thinking he'd have to park outside as close as he could get and attempt to find a way through by searching around the forest below, however, the headlights of the car shown off a small square surface ahead, instead of stopping to figure his way through the forest below.

Subjecting himself to whatever dangers may come with such a venture.

Driving until the car was only a little ways away from the large barricade, he put on the breaks before opening the door to the jeep, hoping out of the car, he walked up to the item that stood out amongst the metal diamond intertwining portions of the fence with plastic backing to block all views of the city, there was an envelope, facing out on the opening side.

The folded pieces of thick paper looked like it had come from one of those Hallmark Birthday cards that family and friends chose out for their loved ones at supermarkets in the times of holidays to show their dedication and love, usually, this was accompanied with a gift or money, perhaps, and this could be considered both, a gift card. But he doubted that the envelope was for anything along those lines.

The corner hooked to the fence was kept there by a thin strand of wire, connecting from the front and back of the corner and tied around one of the diamonds on the fence.

Honestly...He wasn't surprised when he turned it over and found thick red writing on the face of the card: RW.

This threw him off a bit however, he expected it to be his name, perhaps a little note along with it, or a disgusting riddle to confuse him. If confusion was one of the goals here, it in fact worked. He decided he didn't have the time to ponder what these letters were suppose to mean or stand for, whatever it was, he didn't want a part in it. It was something Walter wanted him to be part of. This made the letters matter all the less. He knew he was really keeping himself from thinking about what he really wanted to consider by focusing on how these letters didn't matter.

As confusing as it was, it worked. He didn't want to know what the substance the writing was in or where it came from.

He turned the envelope back to how it was facing before, the triangle fold of the card was tucked inside of it, he pulled it out and held it open while he took the tip of part of the card and pulled it back to peer inside and see what was awaiting him.

Like hell he was just going to reach inside it.

Inside, settled at the bottom, weighing down the card slightly, was a tiny key.

He blinked slightly, but finally gave up his paranoia that the card would do something such as bite him -It could be expected in this place- and reach inside, using his thumb and index finger to grip the key and pull the key out. He turned it from side to side, sighing slightly. What he was supposed to use the key for, was not a mystery at all. He was before a door that needed to be opened, and hooked to it, was a key. He examined it for a moment...The thing resembled a skeleton key. He'd seen one with Daniel back at the restaurant, he and Shannon were the only ones who had one, he'd told Henry, and it could open any door in the restaurant. He had demonstrated by opening a few locked doors after closing hours, just for fun.

Henry shook his head, he really shouldn't be thinking about positive things of the past right now... He should be getting a move on with ending this whole wonderland like nightmare. He crossed over to the near by double doors, that seemed like they were meant to welcome in delivery trucks, he wondered who in the world would use these if they wanted the town blocked off so desperately. Inserting the key into the lock, he turned it.

All the gears worked themselves against each other, for a moment making a metallic whine from lack of being oiled, but within a short couple of clicks, he was able to pull the door from its place. It had been so long since it had been used, it was a bit difficult to even open...

He took in a deep breath and pushed open the door all the way before moving over to the second door and repeating this motion. Unlock. Gears hate him. Push it open. His heart was never given a break it seemed...Henry took a couple steps back, only to be stopped by the nose of the car pressing against the backs of his legs on his way, he figured, if it hadn't been there to halt him, he would have kept walking, making the fog and the city in front of him tinier and tinier.

He couldn't be sure if this was because he wanted to get away...Or if he wanted to get a better view on the whole thing. Once he had a good enough amount of time to stare, trying to adjust his eyes to see past the thick fog, he turned, stuffing the key into his jeans pocket, walking back over to the drivers side of the door, pushing himself back into the drivers seat, and just sitting there for a bit.

His eyes rested on the map of Silent Hill in the passengers seat, his mind ventured back to the state of the house that Daniel and Shannon shared peacefully at one time. The police would probably be there to investigate eventually. He hoped Hydie had really done what he'd said, and contacted them...

This came as a slight comfort to him, with the force involved, it almost seemed like there was a bit more hope in the situation. He leaned out of the car, grabbing the handle of the door and pulling it closed and driving forward, into the town, according to Walter, the House of Judgment...

Driving through the double doors, Henry clenched his hands on the wheel, he couldn't really see anything...But he could tell, just barley, that there were houses on either side of him...He was in a neighborhood. It was so dark...He was almost afraid for a moment, that with the lack of lighting, that he'd hit a pedestrian crossing the street to their own home. It was like his headlights were hitting nothing with all the fog standing in his way...

He didn't think that anyone had stuck around in this town however, it just didn't...Didn't...

What didn't...?

He blinked...The fog seemed...Thicker...?

No...Wait...The thickness was in his head...His vision was beginning to haze and blur, shifting in and out of focus as he drove down the street.

"D-Damn..." He couldn't even tell if he was driving correctly. He tried pulling to the side, next to the sidewalk, his last effort was the remove the keys from the ignition. As they were pulled away however, his hands lost the ability to grip, the keys slipped and fell to the ground below.

Henry swayed in his position at the drivers seat, before finally, he fell against the wheel into unconsciousness.

**Agitatable is totally a word.**

**I attacked you guys with symbolism and metaphors in this chapter by the way, even if it's kind of a disappointment chapter ^^; There wasn't very much for how long I made you guys wait...**


End file.
